Stars Do Not Take Sides
by Rachel Greenwood
Summary: Things start out well enough, but soon, Jack is faced with some difficult choices, and his actions will determine whether or not he and Rose remain together. How can he know which choice is the right one, especially when choosing between what he wants and what's best for Rose's health and happiness?
1. Chapter 1

_April 15th, 1912_

They huddled together in a corner, sharing a blanket. Jack's arm was around her; he tried to block the cold with his body, but he was still shivering himself. The blanket just managed to fit around them, and he suspected it only did because Rose was curled up so tightly against him. Her head was on his shoulder; her arms were draped loosely around him. As soon as they had gotten settled they fell asleep, her body relaxing against his, as though that was all she needed to feel safe. And maybe it was. Or maybe, and Jack knew this was more likely, she was just that exhausted.

He looked down at her. Her breathing was regular, but heavy; he recognized the sound of an oncoming cold. He felt it in his own throat. A cold would be getting off easy, considering everything they'd gone through. They were lucky just to be alive. How many hadn't made it? Had anyone he knew survived? So far, he hadn't recognized anyone, but that didn't mean they weren't onboard somewhere. He hadn't exactly investigated the matter. Guilt gnawed at him. He should've checked.

But he would, later. Right now, he had to keep Rose warm; he couldn't leave her alone. And he was so tired. He rested his cheek against her hair. It was almost dry. Jack pulled the blanket up, covering her head. He wished there was a way to cover his own, but at least he wasn't shivering so much anymore. Slowly, warmth crept over him. It wasn't much, but for now, it was enough.

...

Jack awoke with a start. His heart pounded. His legs were stiff; his neck hurt. The sun was in his eyes. When had it gotten so bright? How long had he been asleep? He glanced at Rose. She was still asleep. Her breathing had grown heavier. He touched her face. She was still deathly pale, but warmer now. "Your hands are cold," she whispered.

"Sorry," he whispered back. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Have I been asleep long?"

"Awhile, I think," he replied. "I'm not sure."

"Did you sleep?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yeah. I didn't mean to."

"You needed it. You probably need rest more than I do," she said.

She moved to sit up, but he stopped her. "Rose, you don't have to-"

"I need to stretch," she said. "And it isn't fair to expect you to hold me all day." She offered him a smile. "It wasn't fair to fall asleep on you. Your arm must be aching."

"It's alright. Here," he said, holding the blanket around her shoulders. "Take it."

"I thought we were sharing?"

"We are." Jack slipped his arm around her, under the blanket. "See?" He pulled the other end across himself. "Sharing."

"You're still so pale, Jack." Rose pressed his hands between hers. "And your hands are so cold. Mine aren't big enough to warm them," she added ruefully.

"You're doing a pretty good job," he said.

"Jack..." she began. Her eyes were somber. "I..." Her voice faltered.

"What's wrong? You can tell me, Rose."

"Jack, I'm so sorry about what happened last night. I feel rather stupid, not to mention ashamed. I shouldn't have let that happen."

" ..." Jack searched for a reply. Her meaning was obvious, and he couldn't believe he hadn't expected this. Of course she would regret it. Now that things had calmed down, why wouldn't she? Everything had happened so quickly; there wasn't time to think; she had his hand, and she was pulling him along, running, laughing, and then, kissing her, smoke all around them, his lips on her neck-Jack blushed at the memory of what came next. Had it all happened only the night before? It felt like so much longer.

"I don't blame you," he said. His eyes met hers. "I understand. It-It was a lot. I should've done something. I just-I thought it was what you wanted. Rose, if I-"

"Jack, what are you talking about?" she asked.

"What happened last night. Between us," he said. "I shouldn'tve let you do something you'd regret."

"I don't regret any of that," she said.

"You don't?"

Rose shook her head. "No, Jack. How could you think I did?"

"Well, you said-"

"I meant what happened with Cal. I'm sorry I insisted we go back," she explained. "I don't know what I was thinking. I _wasn't_ thinking. So much was going through my mind, and somehow, I honestly believed it would be alright. I could walk back in there, tell him what I intended to do, and then I'd do it." She laughed wryly. "I felt untouchable as long as you were with me."

"I wouldn't let him hurt you."

"But that's just it," she said. "He didn't want to hurt me, at least, not before he hurt you." Rose laid her hand on his cheek. "He expected me to come back eventually. He planned for it. I doubt he thought it would be so easy." Her eyes were pleading. "Can you forgive me, Jack?"

"Rose, of course I can. You didn't know what was gonna happen."

"I should have anticipated something would," she argued. "Especially after-" She stopped herself.

"After what?"

"It doesn't matter," she said.

"Tell me," he pressed. "What did he do?" 

"It wasn't that serious," she said. "It was just an incident yesterday, during breakfast."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No." She shook her head. "He scared me, but that's all. He knew I'd been with you. He had that _valet_ of his find us. I'd never seen him like that before," she went on. "I suspected he had a temper, but this was different. I should've remembered that before taking you back there. I just thought it wouldn't happen again, and if we were together..." She sighed. "It was an awful, foolish mistake."

"It was a mistake," Jack said, hugging her closer. "But I agreed to it, remember? I'm not stupid, Rose. I knew what we were doing, who I was in that situation. Any guy would be angry. I just figured, why not get it out in the open if we were gonna stay together? I never expected a whole roomful of people to be waiting for us."

"Neither did I. Cal doesn't like scenes. But he also doesn't like doing things himself," she added. "Hence the elaborate plot."

"It wasn't that elaborate," Jack said drily. "Don't give him too much credit."

"Do you forgive me?"

"Of course I do," he said. "I was never mad at you, Rose."

"Not even when I just stood there and let it happen?"

"I wanted you to say something," he answered slowly. "I knew it wouldn't matter, but I hoped you would. After everything that had happened, you couldn't believe I'd do something like that. And you didn't"

"It took me long enough to realize that," Rose pointed out.

"Yeah, but you did. That's what matters."

"I didn't want to doubt you. I'm not sure I ever did. It was more like I doubted myself," she said. "The things I'd said and done up until that point. It was like I was watching myself from across the room, and suddenly, I realized I was on the verge of completely changing my life, and then this horrible thing was happening, and I was frozen. I wasn't strong enough on my own. I couldn't save you."

"But Rose, you did save me," he reminded her. "I wouldn'ta had chance without you. Whatever mistakes you made, you put it right."

"You can thank Cal for that," Rose said.

"What do you mean?"

"I might've let myself get pulled along until it was too late, but he kept _picking_ at me. It was a shock when he hit me, but that-"

"He _hit_ you?"

"Just once," she said. "And it wasn't hard." She tilted her head back. "See? There isn't even a mark."

"That's not the point!"

"Jack, it doesn't matter. It was the things he said that got to me. I finally understood he didn't care if you died because of his lies. He wasn't angry because he loved me and didn't want me to leave. He just wanted to show off his power. It was all so _sordid_ ," she said. "The things he and my mother were saying, as if thousands of lives weren't on the verge of being lost. As if they had no understanding of how anyone other than themselves would be affected."

"I'm sure they get it now," Jack said.

"I doubt it."

"Hey, don't be so glum." He kissed her. "We made it, didn't we?"

...

Rose's chest hurt when she breathed, but she didn't complain. She was congested, and her head hurt, and no matter how tightly Jack held her, she was still cold. He didn't mention it, but she could tell he wasn't any warmer. His eyes were bleary, his cheeks flushed. "Maybe they'll give us another blanket," she said. They'd only been offered one, back in the boat, but there hadn't been very many to go around. Jack had grabbed it without even asking for one of his own. "We can share," he'd said, wrapping it around them. "We'll be warmer that way." Now, she wondered if he really believed that, or if he just didn't want to take one.

"They must have more," she added.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

She nodded. "Aren't you?"

"I'm alright," he said.

"You're shivering," she argued. "Your hands are still cold."

"I've been warmer," he admitted. "But it's not so bad. Not after that water." He chuckled weakly against the memory of it. The pain was more intense than he'd remembered. He thought he knew what was coming, but those seconds in the lake were nothing compared to this. His father had reached in, grabbing him by the shirt, and pulled him out almost immediately. He didn't remember being wrapped in his father's coat and carried home, just pain and cold, and then finding himself by the fire.

At least he'd been out in the elements since then. He'd trudged through rain and snow, slept outside in all seasons, swum across cold rivers and warm lakes. His body had some idea of what to expect and knew how to handle exposure to hostile conditions. Rose had no defenses; she had nothing to prepare her, and, he feared, despite spending less time in the water, she wouldn't recover as quickly.

"Jack, please," she said.

"Alright. It looks like they're giving out food over there anyway," he said.

It was just a plain broth, and yet, Rose had never tasted anything more delicious. She drank greedily, hardly noticing as it burned her tongue and dripped down her chin. She didn't stop until the bowl was empty. "Here," Jack said, wiping her chin with his sleeve.

"Oh." Self-consciousness washed over her. "Thank you. I don't know what I was thinking. That wasn't-"

"Do you want mine?" he offered. There was no judgment in his eyes.

Rose smiled, suddenly warmed, though by his gesture or the soup, she didn't know. "You keep it," she said. "You need it."

"Switch bowls with me. I'll get another. And a blanket," he added.

"Will they give you more?"

"I think they will," Jack said confidently. "Go on. Drink mine."

When Jack reached the head of the line, the steward gave him a suspicious look. "Weren't you just in line?" he asked.

"Yeah, I was," Jack replied. "I thought maybe I could get another bowl?"

"Sorry. I can't do it. We have to be sure there's enough for everyone."

"I understand," Jack said. "I do. But it's for my wife." He tilted his head toward Rose, who was too absorbed by her current bowl to notice. "She's not doing so good." He lowered his voice. "And she's..." He tilted his head again, hoping the message was clear.

The other man glanced at Rose, and then back at Jack. "I can't be doing this a lot," he said.

"I won't ask again," Jack assured him. "Thank you. Really."

"You're welcome. Just don't tell anyone."

"I won't. I swear. And I hate to ask another favor, but do you think we could get another blanket? There's two of us, after all," Jack said.

"Fine. But that's it."

Jack carried the steaming bowl triumphantly, the blanket over his shoulder. "See?" he said. "Got it."

"How did you manage it?"

He shrugged. "Just had to ask."

"Really?"

"Really," he said. "It's not like I have anything to offer him."

"I didn't expect it to be so easy," she said. "But then again, you are rather charming when you want to be."

"Me? Charming?" Jack flashed a grin. "I had no idea you felt that way."

Rose smiled but rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you didn't."

...

They were back in their corner, one blanket across their shoulders, the other wrapped around their legs. Rose leaned against Jack's shoulder, her arms around his waist. His arm was draped around her, the other holding the blanket together. They shared them at her insistence. Jack would've preferred she use the extra one, but he didn't push it. He refused to take Cal's coat, however, arguing she needed it more because of her thin dress.

"Your clothes aren't much thicker," Rose pointed out. "And besides, I have you keeping me warm." Her lips trembled as she spoke. He leaned over and kissed her in a vain attempt to stop it.

"I'm fine," he said reassuringly. "You're keeping me warm too."

Rose closed her eyes and hugged him tighter. "I wish you would take it," she murmured.

"Don't worry. We'll off this ship and somewhere nice and warm before you know it," he said. "Just rest for now."

"I'll stay awake this time." But her voice was already faint.

"You don't have to, Rose," he said, pressing his lips to her hair. "Sleep if you need to."

...

Rose slept soundly, but Jack drifted in and out, his head snapping up at every sound. They had nothing to fear from either their fellow survivors or the ship's crew. That should have been enough to relax him, but it wasn't because although he hadn't seen Cal since the shooting attempt, Jack knew he was somewhere onboard. He felt it. Sooner or later, Cal would make his presence known, and he needed to be ready when it happened.

As it turned out, he didn't have long to wait. He was just drifting off again when he heard a voice say, "There's none of yours down here, sir. It's all steerage." It was the steward who had given him the extra soup. He didn't hear the reply, if there was one. Jack slid down and turned, so he was facing away from anyone who approached. He pulled Rose onto his lap, keeping the blanket over her face. He covered his own head and waited as the footsteps drew closer.

They were just inches away when they stopped. Jack held his breath, hoping Rose wouldn't wake up. He didn't know what he'd if forced to confront Cal, and he didn't care to find out. Jack heard a sigh, and then Cal stepped past them. Slowly, Jack lifted his head and peeked out, making sure to keep most of his face covered. Cal was off to the side now. His jacket was torn, and his hair was in disarray. His expression was inscrutable, though Jack thought he detected sadness in his eyes. Was it for the survivors? For the dead? Was he thinking of Rose's fate, and his own hand in it? Jack wanted to believe that was it, but he suspected any sorrow Cal felt was mostly reserved for himself.

Jack watched him walk away. They weren't the only blanket-clad figures Cal had passed; he hadn't bothered to look closer at any of them. It was as if he didn't expect to find Rose-or perhaps, didn't care one way or the other-and was just fulfilling an obligation. Either way, Jack was disgusted by it.

Rose's voice was quiet. "May I come out now?"

He pulled back the blanket. "I didn't know you were awake," he said.

"I've only been awake a few minutes. Staying put seemed prudent, under the circumstances."

"How'd you know he was here?" he asked.

"You told me. You were so tense," she replied. "And why else would you be hiding me?"

"To keep warm?"

"Well, I must admit, it was warm under there," she said. "Though a bit hard to breathe."

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't want him to see us."

"I'm glad he didn't. That's-" Her words were swallowed by a harsh cough.

"Rose, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said, fighting back another cough. Tears filled her eyes. Her face was pale, but her cheeks were red.

"You're hot. You probably have a fever. We should get you to a doctor. There has to be one onboard," Jack said.

"What about you? You're flushed. And cold."

Jack wrapped her in the blankets and lifted her as he stood up. "Well, I guess it's a good thing I'm going with you," he said.

"Jack, there's no need to carry me. I'm perfectly capable of walking."

But when she tried, her legs wobbled, and she had to cling to him for support. Sighing, she let him scoop her back up. "Shouldn't be too hard to find," he said optimistically.

 **AN: It has been a long time since I posted, and although I've wanted to update my stories, I either didn't have time or just wasn't sure where to take them next. Or both. I've had some time lately, and surprisingly, I've had a lot of ideas. I really enjoyed working on this first chapter, and I'm looking forward to writing more for a while. I hope you enjoy this story, and I do intend to try and finish everything, finally!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thanks for the reviews and support! I'm hoping to start posting a chapter a week, but maybe I'll get more up.**

Jack suspected he wouldn't have been directed to the infirmary so quickly had it not been for Rose. She held his hand, her head leaning on his shoulder, curls falling across her face. She shivered, despite the blanket wrapped around her. He knew she wouldn't care for the description, but there was something delicate about her, almost doll-like, and it was that which the gruff steward responded to. He barely glanced at Jack, as if he weren't even worth considering. Even now, their class distinctions were obvious, but Jack didn't care.

They were directed into a large, white room. "Why don't you sit down?" Jack suggested. There was a table and several chairs in the middle, a sink along one wall, doors leading into various antechambers, and cabinets running along the floor and walls. Rose sank into a chair without protest. Her head ached, and focusing her eyes was getting more difficult. She held loosely to Jack's hand, still leaning against him. "Do you think we'll have to wait long?" she asked.

Before he could answer, the door behind them opened, and in strode a man carrying a clipboard. He looked to be in his late twenties and was dressed in a dark grey suit. His hair was an ashy blonde. "Oh," he said, in a clipped British accent. "Did someone send you down here?"

"We were told to come here for help," Jack replied. "Are you the doctor?"

"I'm one of them," the man replied amiably. "Brian. Dr. Wynn. Are you from the-"

"Yeah," Jack said quickly. "We've been up on deck."

"I'm not surprised," Brian said. "They were only bringing the worst cases to us, mostly people who'd been in the water."

"We were," Jack said.

Brian's eyes widened slightly. "Really? You're among the lucky ones, from what I've seen. What's bothering you?"

Jack opened his mouth to reply but coughed instead. "Colds," he managed to say. "I think. My wife's worse," he added. "She's not used to this."

Brian was already bent down, studying Rose's face. "No, I'd say she's not doing well at all." His tone was thoughtful. "I'll need to take her temperature. And yours."

Jack had a fever of 99, while Rose's was 100. After a short exam, they were shown to beds. "Rest here, and a nurse will be back with medication," Brian instructed. "It shouldn't be long."

They were in a far corner of the room, facing the door. With the curtain closed, it almost felt private. The beds were a few feet apart, with a small table between them. Rose shook her head. "No," she said, holding tighter to Jack's hand. "They can't separate us."

"They're not," he said. "I'll be right next to you."

"No," she said again, more forcefully. She gave him a pleading look. "Jack, no." Her throat was dry; her head spun. She just wanted to sleep, but she couldn't if his arms weren't around her. He had to be there; she had to feel him against her; otherwise, how could she be sure he was still there? How could she be sure _she_ was still there?

"There's no reason to be afraid, Rose," he said soothingly.

"He could find us again." She tried to say more, but talking took too much energy. She didn't know where this fear came from, just that it was real, and she couldn't ignore it. Sure, Cal had walked past them without a second glance on deck, but did that mean he was finished with his search? She had thought so then, but now, things weren't so clear. Nothing was clear, except the need to keep Jack as close as possible.

Rose's knees were weak; she was vaguely aware of herself shaking. She heard Jack's voice, but she couldn't understand him. She felt him slip Cal's coat from her shoulders. She wasn't sure if she resisted when he eased her onto the bed. He removed her shoes but stopped there. Rose struggled to keep her eyes open. "Jack?" It was little more than a whisper. "Jack?"

And then his arms were around her. There was barely enough space for both of them, but he pressed himself against the wall. "I'm here, Rose," he said. "I'm not goin anywhere. Don't worry." She tried to reply, but sleep overtook her instead.

...

A nurse woke them up. She gave them spoonfuls of a thick syrup, followed by small cups of water. She took their temperatures and glanced at their eyes. She moved with a brisk efficiency, saying little, though it was clear she found their sleeping arrangement less than proper, even if they were a supposedly married couple.

Rose settled back against him. "Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," he said.

"You must think I'm hysterical," she said. "Insisting you stay in this tiny bed with me."

"I don't think you're hysterical. I'm kinda glad you insisted," he added. "This is nice."

"Isn't it?" she agreed, yawning. "I could stay this way for a while."

And in fact, they spent the rest of the day and night in bed, waking up only for medicine and food. They received critical looks, but no-one demanded they part. The curtain around their bed was kept closed, a fact which they both found amusing. By the next afternoon, Jack's symptoms were starting to clear up, and he moved to a chair next to the bed. Rose, unfortunately, wasn't faring as well. Her fever had broken, which, as Brian pointed out, was a good sign, but she was still suffering under a heavy cold.

"You'll need to stay indoors as much as possible for the next week or so," Brian instructed. "Stay warm and hydrated. Tea, soup, that sort of thing. Ordinarily, I'm not supposed to give out bottles of medicine, but under the circumstances, I'll let you take one."

Rose smiled gratefully. "Thank you." She hardly recognized her own voice. Everything sounded a bit distant. The pressure in her head had made its way to her ears, and she couldn't shake the vague sense of being underwater.

...

"Let's go up and see it," Rose urged. She already had her feet on the floor.

"You're supposed to stay inside," Jack reminded her.

"But Jack, we've made it. We're in New York. Don't you want to watch as the ship docks?"

"I'd rather stay here a little while longer," he said, tucking the blanket around her. "Let you get as much rest as possible."

"I'm feeling better," she said.

"I know." He let his hand rest on hers and offered a smile. "I can tell, but you don't want to push yourself, Rose. You'll just feel worse."

"We'll have to leave soon, no matter how either of us feel," she argued. "We may as well experience this. I could go without you," she added.

"You could." Jack nodded. "I won't stop you."

"It won't be the same alone," Rose said. She laced her fingers through his. "Won't you come with me?"

Jack looked into her eyes. How could he tell her they should enjoy this comfort while they could because it wasn't likely to come again for a while? How could he make her understand not only how different but also how _difficult_ things would be after this without completely shattering her dreams? Doubt edged its way into his thoughts, and his stomach twisted. Was this really a good idea? What right did he have to let her make this decision? To throw her entire life away? And for what? For him? For freedom? His owns words echoed in his head. _They've got you trapped, Rose._ He'd made quite a convincing case. It felt like weeks had passed since then. It had been so easy to plead with her to come with him. When she announced her intentions, he didn't argue; he didn't ask if she was sure, and he could blame that on the iceberg, but Jack knew that wasn't the only reason. The truth was, he wanted her to come with him; only now, despite everything he knew about Cal, about her unhappiness, her desperation to break free, it was starting to seem like a selfish desire.

"Alright," he said. "I'll go up with you, but we're taking a blanket."

...

Disembarking was a slightly surreal experience. They had no luggage and no-one to meet them. There were no relatives anxiously waiting to hear news of their fate. Instead, they found themselves fighting through a crowd of reporters and curiousity seekers. Rose's head ached from the din. Flashbulbs went off in every direction. Someone stepped on her foot, and she cried out. Jack tightened his arm around her, pulling her closer. "Are you alright?" he asked.

She nodded. "It was just my foot."

"We'll be outta this soon," he assured her.

"Where are we going?"

Jack was saved from admitting he didn't know by a group of women ringing bells. One of them held a sign offering lodgings for _Titanic_ survivors. "We're gonna see what that's all about," he said.

The women were well-dressed, though from what Rose could see they were either wearing plain outfits suitable for charity work, or they were merely comfortable, rather than wealthy. They all appeared to be around her mother's age, and she was startled by the resemblance between Ruth and the group's leader. Her breath caught in her throat when the older woman's gaze fell on her. "My dear, you look like you've gone through quite an ordeal," the woman said. Her tone was kind.

Rose nodded. "We have," she managed to say.

"You were onboard?"

Rose nodded again. "Yes. We were. My husband and I," she added, indicating Jack.

"Well, I'm Mrs. Fairfax," the woman said. "These fine ladies and myself represent the Ladies' Temperance Union. When we learned about the tragedy, we knew aid would be needed, so we began organizing. We haven't had time to put much together, I'm sorry to say, but we've managed to secure a few dozen rooms, along with food, warm clothing, and in some cases, a small amount of money."

"How generous of you," Rose said. Jack wondered how they determined who qualified for the money. He doubted they would be chosen. It was just the two of them, and there was no reason for anyone to think he couldn't find a job. Perhpaps they could help with that somehow? Taking money would be awkward, but he wouldn't mind being pointed in the right direction. He could handle the rest.

Mrs. Fairfax was handing Rose a box and a sheet of paper. Jack realized he hadn't heard the rest of their conversation. He smiled and nodded as they walked away, feeling strangely out of place.

"Do you want me to take that?" he offered.

"You don't mind?"

"Course not," he said. He was surpised by how heavy it was. "They weren't kidding, were they?"

"Apparently not. I can't believe they gave us this entire box," Rose said. "Then again, the clothes may not fit. I suppose I could alter them, if it came to that," she mused.

"Could you really?"

"Possibly," she replied. "I don't have much experience, but I'm not completely ignorant of the process." She studied the paper. "Do you have any idea how to find this address?"

Jack shook his head. "I haven't ever been here."

Rose's eyes widened. "Why, Jack," she said in mock horror. "I thought you'd been everywhere. How disappiointing." She tossed her head back. "Well, I guess we'll just have to ask someone."

...

It didn't take them long to find a willing guide. The address wasn't too far away, and they reached it without incident. Jack was surprised by Rose's atittude. He couldn't tell if she was unmoved by the conditions around them, or if she simply didn't notice. The neighborhood wasn't terrible; he'd seen worse, in fact, but it was definitely on the lower end of middle class, either slowly coming up in the world or sliding down.

A light rain was falling by the time they reached the house. It was in need of paint, but lights shone in the windows, giving it a warm glow. Rose shivered. "I'll be glad to get inside," she said. Jack hoped she wouldn't be disappointed.

...

"Are you cold?" Rose asked. She wrapped her arms around herself. "It feels almost colder in here than it did outside."

"I'll get the heat going," Jack said. In addition to the room, they had been given a small bucket of coal for the stove. The room was large enough for a bed, a bureau, wash stand and mirror, table, and chairs. The stove was in the corner. They had one window, which wouldn't offer much light, but they had a lamp, a small pack of candles, and a book of matches. These gifts had been offered due to their survivor status, and Jack knew they wouldn't be given again. "Why don't you take a bath while it warms up?" he added. "That should help."

"Are you calling me dirty?" Rose arched an eyebrow. Her mouth turned up at the corners.

"I'd never call you dirty," Jack replied, taking her hand. He was surprised by how cold it felt.

"I wouldn't blame you if you did. I am. I've never gone this long without bathing."

"You'd be shocked by how long I've gone," he said.

"It's different for you."

"How?" he said.

"You're a man. No-one minds as much when men aren't impeccably groomed," Rose said. "It only makes you more attractive. Rugged."

"That's not what I saw back on the ship."

She shook her head dismissively. "I wasn't talking about them. I wouldn't ever compare you to them. I can't imagine comparing anyone to them. At least, not anyone I liked," she added with a laugh.

He lightly caressed her hand. "That's good to know."

The air around them began to grow thick. "I should take that bath," Rose said.

"Yeah. I'll go in after you."

"Where-Where is the bathroom?" she asked.

"At the end of the hall." He couldn't take his gaze off hers.

"Right. Of course. I remember," she said. "I'll just find something to wear, and I'll go." She pulled her hand away, and he fought the urge to reach for it.

Jack let out a sigh when the door closed behind her. The room had barely begun to warm up, but he felt hot all over. A glance in the mirror confirmed the blush running down his neck. He raked his fingers through his hair. This couldn't happen. Not again. Not yet. Things had to be settled first, or as settled as they were likely to get. They had to figure out what was happening next. Were they staying together? Jack thought that was what she wanted. Why else would she still be with him? But what if she'd just wanted support in her escape? They hadn't promised each other anything. It had all been unspoken. Looks. Embraces. Kisses. He burned hotter at the memory of how far they'd gone. He'd never wanted anyone the way he wanted her.

"Jack?" He was startled by her hand on his shoulder. "Is something wrong?"

Her hair was still wet, the curls almost straight. She had a freshly scrubbed glow. The nightgown she wore was flannel, and it came down to her ankles, but Jack could still see the curves of her body. "I'm fine," he said, forcing his voice to remain steady. "Tired."

Rose brushed his hair back. "So am I. The water wasn't very hot, but it should do." He wondered if she knew what was running through his mind. "I'll wait for you," she said. "We can go to bed together."

"Go to sleep," he said.

She nodded. "Yes." Her eyes were concerned. "You've worried so much about me, Jack, you haven't been taking care of yourself."

"I'll be fine." He flashed a grin and allowed himself to kiss her hand. "You can go on to sleep, if you want."

...

Rose didn't know what he was thinking, at least not consciously, but she found herself struggling similiarly when he got into bed. He wrapped his arm around her, his hand resting just below her breast. She tried not to think about it, but it was so close. Was that intentional? Was he waiting for a signal from her? They curled into each other, his head resting against her shoulder. She felt his breath. If he moved forward, just an inch or so, his lips would be on her neck. Rose fought the urge to shift herself back. She closed her eyes and focused her breathing. It would be so easy to move his hand. It would look accidental. She could pretend to be asleep and gauge his reaction. If he wasn't interested well, that was fine, but if he was...

She let out a breath. Her body tingled. Why hadn't he done more than hold her? He hadn't even kissed her. Had she been wrong? Did he not want her after all? Then why was he holding her? She wished she could ask. After everything that had happened, it should've been easy, but her voice was gone. If Jack had changed his mind, if in fact, he'd never wanted her the way she wanted him, Rose wasn't ready to hear it yet.


	3. Chapter 3

She was still there when he woke up. Sunlight streamed through the window, turning her curls into fire. She slept soundly. Aside from a slight thickness in her breathing, she seemed recovered from her cold. Jack kissed her cheek. He'd almost expected her to wake up first, and seeing her surroundings in the clear morning light be so repulsed she'd bolt without a word. He knew he should have more faith in her, and he did, but it wasn't an entirely crazy thought. He still couldn't quite believe she was with him.

Rose stirred, as if sensing his thoughts. "It's bright in here," she said, her voice slurred by sleep.

"You want me to close the shade the rest of the way?"

She blinked. "No, it's fine," she said. "It's nice, actually." She turned to face him. "It feels like weeks since the last time I saw daylight."

"I know. I hope this lasts."

"I'm sure it will," Rose said.

There was a pause as they both wondered if they meant the weather or their relationship. "How'd you sleep?" Jack asked.

"Wonderfully." She stretched her arms over her head, arching her back. Even with the thick quilt covering her it was hard not to stare. "This bed is more comfortable than I expected. It's much better than what we had in the infirmary."

"Well, we did squeeze two people on it," he laughed.

"I'm sure the staff thought we were crazy," Rose said. "I can just imagine what they said about us."

"I doubt it was that bad. Most people probably reacted that way," he said. "Held on to each other, just glad they didn't lose someone." His blue eyes darkened.

"We'll find your friends." Rose put a hand on his shoulder. "We can check the survivor lists."

"I'd almost rather not know for sure they didn't make it."

"We don't know that for sure," she said. "There's hope. Jack, you made it. They could have made it too."

"I didn't see any of them on the _Carpathia_."

"We spent most of our time in the infirmary," she reminded him. "You could've easily missed them."

"Yeah, I guess I could've," Jack agreed reluctantly.

"You feel guilty, don't you, Jack?"

"A little."

Rose stroked his hair. "If something happened to your friends, it isn't your fault," she said.

"I coulda tried harder to help them." Even as he said it, Jack didn't fully believe it. He wasn't sure what else he could have done. He'd helped Fabrizo and the others escape the lower decks, leaving a path open for anyone else who needed it. He'd helped give them a fighting chance, but nothing he did could've secured them a place in a boat. And yet, he couldn't accept that. "I wish it hadn't happened," he said. "I wish none of it had happened."

"So do I."

He took her hand and kissed it. "At least I know you're safe."

His eyes were so blue. Rose felt herself getting lost in them. Her hand tingled from his kiss. They were so close, just inches apart. All she had to do was reach out and pull him to her. But then what? Would he resist? Did he still want her? Would he think she was too demanding for initiating things twice? _Was_ she too demanding? Doubts crowded her mind. The one thing Rose knew for sure was she wanted him.

Jack couldn't stop gazing at her mouth. He didn't think he'd ever seen lips that perfect. All he wnated was to kiss her again. He'd never stop kissing her if he could avoid it. He tried to tear himself away, but his eyes landed on her neck. The memory of kissing it flashed before him. The smell of her skin. Her hair. Jack felt his face go hot as the ache of desire worsened. Her hand was cool against his cheek. "Are you alright, Jack?" she asked.

He nodded and managed a, "Fine."

Rose pressed her hand to the back of his neck and kissed him. Desire buzzed around them, electrifying the air. Jack wrapped his arms around her, pressing her to him. His free hand rested on her waist.

"Jack," she sighed. She took his hand, moving it up to her breast. He groaned low in his throat, silently cursing the layers of fabric separating his skin from hers.

His lips found her neck. He kissed his way to the top of her nightgown. He stopped and looked into her eyes; they reflected his own need back at him. Her breathing was shallow. "Don't stop, Jack."

It was exactly what he wanted to her, but he couldn't listen. "Rose, we shouldn't do this."

"Why not?" She half-smiled. "We already have."

"I know," Jack said. "But that doesn't mean it should happen again so soon."

Rose's brow furrowed. "Is it me?" she asked hesitantly. "Jack, do you not want me? Was I-"

"You're perfect," he reassured her. "Absolutely perfect." Before he could stop himself, Jack kissed her again. She was so eager, so open to him. It was intoxicating.

"Then why not?" Rose murmured, her lips still on his.

"I want you so much," he said between kisses. "Rose." He traced her body through the nightgown. Undoing the buttons and slipping it over her head would be so easy. She'd let him. She _wanted_ him to.

It took every ounce of willpower Jack possessed to pull himself away. "Rose, we can't do this yet." He brushed the hair out of his eyes. Struggling to catch his breath he said, "We have to decide what's going to happen. I know you want this as much as I do, but what then?"

"Do you mean what will happen in the future?"

"Yeah," he said. "Where do we go from here?"

"I've been a little afraid to ask," Rose said. "I thought as long as you still wanted me, that was a good sign."

"Rose, of course I want you, and not just like this." Jack lightly caressed her cheek with his thumb. "I want whatever I can have with you," he said.

"Do you mean that, Jack?"

"You trust me, right?"

Rose nodded. "I trust you."

"It's up to you," he said. "Just tell me how this is gonna go."

"When I said I was getting off the ship with you, I meant I wanted to stay with you. I still want that."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I know we've been through a lot, but Rose, it's not too late to go back."

"How can you even suggest such a thing? You're the one who saw how that life was killing me," she said. She stared at him. "Why would I ever go back?"

"I didn't mean go back to Cal. You could go back to your mother and still have a nice life. Find a decent guy to marry, someone who can take care of you."

"I've already found the man I want. I made my choice, Jack. I'm here. I want whatever I can have with you," she said.

Jack grinned. "I guess we agree then, huh?"

"It certainly looks that way." Rose laid her hand over his. "I love you."

Jack couldn't believe his ears. He wondered again how he could've gotten so lucky. "I love you too."

"That's enough for me." She kissed his fingertips, one at time. Jack inhaled sharply; the ache was growing stronger. "Don't you think we should talk a little more?" he asked.

"Do you?"

"I don't know if you can trust my answer right now." His tone was light, but his eyes were serious. "I don't want to do anything to hurt you," he said.

"How could loving me do that?" Rose said.

"We're not married."

"That's not what we've been telling people," she reminded him.

"Doesn't make it true," he said.

"Who's to say it isn't? Marriage is just a public agreement to respect a relationship. No-one goes around asking for proof."

She had him there. They could say they were married all they wanted; who would bother questioning them? Even if they did, they couldn't prove anything one way or the other. Who was to say the license hadn't been lost in the sinking? So there wasn't a record. Maybe it was just hard to find. Maybe they were married in a small village somewhere in Europe.

Jack had never bothered much with convention. He had nothing against marriage, but if she didn't want it, should he press the matter? Was it still too soon to be making that kind of commitment anyway? But weren't they making a commitment already? He felt bound to her; if they made love again, wouldn't he feel it even more? It was probably already too late.

"It sounds kinda silly when you put it that way," he said.

"But?"

"But I wanna marry you, Rose. It doesn't have to be today or tomorrow or anytime soon, but I want to," he said. "I want it to be true when I call you my wife."

A warm glow spread over her. Rose's stomach flipped, and she couldn't contain her smile. So this was how a proposal was supposed to feel. She kissed him, slowly this time. "I want that too," she whispered.

The kiss deepened. Rose tugged his shirt, rolling him onto her. She sighed as his hands found the buttons on her gown. She felt his hands on her, gently caressing. It all felt so right. This was how it should be.

...

"It's a beautiful day, but it's much colder than it looks," Rose said, shivering. She pulled her thin shawl tighter with one hand. Jack held the other. They both wore clothes from the charity box they'd received the day before. Jack was outfitted in black pants and a blue shirt, which paired nicely with his eyes. Rose wore a green day dress and a white, knit shawl; neither were particularly fashionable, though the dress was pretty and fit well. Unfortunately, it was more suited to a hot summer day than a cold spring one.

"Do you want my jacket?" Jack offered, already shrugging out of it.

"You keep it. I'l be fine."

"You're cold. I can see you shivering, you know," he said. "Take it."

"I promise I won't always be this much trouble."

"Who said you were any trouble? I love you just the way you are," he said.

Rose smiled and took his hand again. "Where are we going for breakfast?"

"We pretty skipped breakfast," Jack replied, a flirtatious note in his voice. "I'd say we're gonna be lucky to make the end of lunch."

"You sound disappointed," she said, a smile playing about her lips.

"Not at all. Breakfast is a waste of time as far as I'm concerned."

"Is this a recent development?"

"Yeah, you could say that," he said. "I don't know if I'll ever care about being up in time for breakfast again."

"There _are_ much better uses of your time."

Jack circled her waist with his arm, pulling her close. "I'm starting to see that," he said.

"Jack, people can see us. We're out in the street." She didn't look entirely displeased as she said it, though she did toss a glance over her shoulder.

"I know. I wasn't trying...I just..."

"I know," Rose said. "So do I."

Jack let out a breath. "We need to eat."

"Yes, we do."

"Right. Lunch. Gotta find something," he said.

On their way out, they'd inquired at the front desk and learned their rent was paid for a month. It was a lot longer than Jack had dared expect. He'd hoped for a week or two, at most. This gave them a chance to breathe a little.

In the box they'd found two sets of clothes each, including underthings, which brought them both to three outifts. They also found shoes, a comb, soap, toothbrushes and powder. Folded into the clothes was an envelope containing $20.

"How long will this last?" Rose asked.

"It can last a while," he answered. "As long as we stick to necessities."

"That shouldn't be too difficult."

Now that they were actually out walking around, Jack was overwhelmed by the city. They knew the address where they were staying, so he wasn't too worried about getting lost. He just wasn't sure how to find what they needed. On his own, that would've been easy; he would've just wandered until he came across something that looked promising. But he couldn't drag Rose around all afternoon, even if she was willing to go. It wasn't fair.

"What about there?" Rose said, indicating a delicatessen sign.

"Good idea."

"I've heard about delicatessens, but I've never been to one," she said. "What are they like?"

"You've never been to a deli? Not once?" he said.

"No. Have I been missing something?"

"You definitely have," he said.

"Let's fix that," Rose said.

...

They ate chicken soup at a small table in the back. "This is so much better than what we had before," Rose said. She breathed in the delicious aroma. "What do you suppose they put in it?"

"I'm not sure," Jack replied. "It's probably a family recipe."

"Did your family have recipes?"

"I think so," he said. "I don't know any of 'em, though."

"Mine doesn't."

"I know you had coks, but no-one ever made anything themselves?"

Rose shook her head. "No. Nothing. I never even went into our kitchen. I doubt my mother ever did either."

"Really," he said, intrigued.

"Yes, Jack, really," she said, amusement in her voice. "Why would we? The housekeeper took orders from Mother, and she supervised the indoor staff. Although, the cook supervised the kitchen. I'm not sure what the butler was in charge of, aside from answering the door. There were so many people working in the house. I knew some of their names but not all. I didn't interact with or even see most of them."

Jack knew they were from different worlds. He'd peeked into her world on the ship. It was a bizarre, yet beautiful, place full of mostly entitled people, oblivious to anything outside their immediate experience, and seeing that up close confirmed his lack of interest in it. Hearing Rose describe her life this way, however, made him aware of the space between them all over again. It wasn't that he thought she didn't want to or couldn't adapt, but rather, he feared the changes might be more difficult than either of them anticipated.

"It sounds absurd, doesn't it?" she said. "Three people living in an enourmous house, full of unused rooms, with dozens of people scurrying about and seeing to their every need and whim. It _is_ absurd," she added. "All those years I believed it was just...how things were."

"It's what you were taught," he said gently. "Who you were raised to be. You can't feel bad about that."

"Maybe not." Rose looked down into her bowl and laughed. "I finished my soup and didn't even notice."

"Do you want more?"

"I could eat more," she admitted. "But can we afford another bowl?"

"Don't worry about it," he said.

"Jack-"

"Really, it's alright," he insisted. "I wouldn't tell you that if it wasn't true."

"Are you sure you're not just trying to ease me into things?" Rose asked.

"I'm not."

"You aren't going to coddle me, are you?"

"Hadn't planned on it," he said.

"Good," she said. "Please don't."

...

They took sandwiches back to their room for dinner. Jack explained how the windowsill would keep them cold. They had no dishes and no way to cook a mean, which concerned Jack a little, but he figured they could make do for a few weeks, or at least until they decided what came next. That was a convesation they would need to have soon, but he wanted to give them both a chance to adjust a little more before bringing it up.

He felt better since telling Rose about his guilt over surviving, but it hadn't gone away completely. How would he feel if he checked the list and discovered Fabrizo was dead? The others would hurt, but he was the reason Fabrizo had been onboard. _His_ hand won the tickets; _he_ was off with Rose when they hit the iceberg. And he was _still_ with Rose the last time he saw his friend. Jack had forgotten everything but finding a way to survive with her. How could he do that? Wanting her safe wasn't selfish, but he still felt he'd acted selfishly on some level.

"I'm sorry about your drawings," Rose said.

Jack looked up. "What?"

"The ones you lost."

"Oh. Yeah. So am I," he said. "There was no way to save them. At least I didn't have a lotta stuff to lose. It's not so hard to replace on bag."

Rose smiled wryly. "Unlike me."

"I didn't say that."

"I know," she replied. "I've been thinking about things. Material goods," she clarified. "My family had so much. _I_ had so much, far more than I could ever want or use. And there was Cal, always trying to win me over with even more." She paused. "I know how this sounds. No-one wants to hear complaining about someone having too many nice things."

"That's not exactly what I heard," Jack said. "I heard you explaining how all those things didn't equal happiness."

"People with nothing might disagree."

"I had nothing, and I agree," he said.

"Had? Do you have something now?"

"I do," he said. "I have you."

Rose smiled. "And you think that's worth counting?"

Jack leaned over and kissed her. "I do. It means everything."

...

They could've gone back out. Rose wanted to, despite the cold, but Jack thought they should wait until the morning. "We'll start early, and I'll look for a job," he said.

"So will I."

"You don't hafta to do that, Rose."

"Sure I do," she said. "I'll admit I don't have much practical understanding of what it costs to live, and maybe you can support the both of us just fine, but I shouldn't expect you to. And I want to," she added. "I want to _do_ something."

"What were you thinking about doing?"

"Honestly, Jack, I have no idea," she answered. "Somehow I doubt becoming an actress or a dancer is a viable option."

"It might be. You dance very well," he said. "At least, I thought so."

"You're sweet, Jack, but I was just having fun."

"You know, Rose, nothing has to be decided tonight," Jack said.

"It can't be put off for too long."

"No, it can't," he agreed. "But take a few days and think. You changed your whole survived a horrible experience. We could both use a little time to breathe."

"You have a point. And your life changed also. It's not just mine," she said.

"It did," he said. "I never planned for anything like this. I never planned _anything_. I didn't think further ahead than the next day, sometimes not even that far. And now..."

"And now you have to plan?" Rose said.

"I have to think about someone besides myself."

"You aren't a selfish person, Jack," she said. "I don't want to demean what you're feeling, but I have trouble believing you've ever thought only of yourself."

"Maybe not in that sense," Jack said. "But I only had to take care of myself." He didn't know why he was telling her so much; it seemed like the kind of thing most men would keep to themselves, buried under a layer of stoicism, but telling her felt right. It made sense to him.

"I don't want you thinking you have to constantly worry about me. I want to disrupt your life as little as possible."

"I don't think you need me around every second," Jack said. "But I can't say I won't worry. That goes with loving someone. We're figuring things out, and that can be hard, but it's good."

"I'm glad you told me this." Rose laced her fingers though his. "I want us to always talk about what we're feeling."

"We will," Jack said. "I promise."


	4. Chapter 4

The newspaper was spread across the table. Their empty breakfast plates had been pushed aside to make room for it. They needed to leave soon. Technically, he hadn't finished his coffee yet, but the man watching from the counter knew as well as Jack did he was just holding on to it so they could keep their seats. Still, he kept reading, a pencil between his fingers. So far he'd seen a few promising ads, but he wanted to be sure he didn't miss anything.

"Here's one," Rose said.

He scanned it. "Stenographer?"

"For me. I could do it," she said. "Don't you think?"

"Sure," he said encouragingly. "I don't know exactly what they do, but you could learn." He was trying to walk a fine line between offering too much encouragement and not enough. There was no reason to think she couldn't learn whatever skills were necessary for any job, but there was also a good chance she wouldn't be given the opportunity. At times he'd been allowed to learn, but he wasn't sure how it worked for women.

"I can," she said. "It wouldn't take long to learn." She glanced toward the counter. "Should we leave?"

"Yeah, probably. Did you get enough to eat?"

"Absolutely."

Grinning, he kissed her hand. "Good. Let's go."

When they were outside, Rose said, "How do you usually handle this? Do you just go around to each place?"

"Pretty much. I walk around until I find something. I don't think I'll do that today, though."

"It isn't too cold," she said. "We can be out all day."

"No, it's nice today, but still." Jack shrugged. "We don't have to do that."

"Jack, you don't have have to change the way you do things because I'm with you. I don't want that."

"I can't drag you around all day."

"You aren't dragging me. I'm perfectly capable of walking," she said. She held his gaze, daring him to object. He opened his mouth only to close it again. Satisfied, she smiled. "Let's get going," she said, taking his hand.

...

"Tired?"

Rose shook her head. "I'm fine."

It was after lunch, but they hadn't stopped to eat yet. She hoped they would soon, though she had no intention of bringing it up. If she told him she was hungry, Jack would get her food. There was no doubt about that, but how would she prove she could keep up with him if she already needed a break? She shivered as the wind picked up. It was warm in the sun, but the wind carried a chill.

"Cold?" he asked.

"A little. I'm fine."

It wasn't a lie. Her feet hurt, and her stomach growled, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. Just minor discomforts, really. The sort of thing she needed to get used to. She took a breath, and a sharp pain sliced through her lungs. Now, _that_ might be cause for alarm, but she told herself it was just her cold lingering.

"After this next place we'll get some lunch," Jack said.

"You aren't just saying that for my benefit, are you?"

"No. For mine." He grinned. "I'm hungry."

"Really? So soon? I would've thought an experienced adventurer such as yourself would go much longer between meals," Rose teased.

"I can. I have. But I don't have to right now," he replied. "So I'd rather not."

"Well, if you insist."

"And I do," he said.

...

They ate outside at Rose's urging. "I want to feel the sun," she said. Its warmth on her face made up for the pain in her lungs and throat. They took sandwiches to a small park. A bottle of soda sat between them. That was also Rose's doing. Jack wanted to get two, but she insisted it wasn't necessary. "We can share," she said. "Unless that sort of thing bothers you."

"No, it doesn't."

It really didn't, and even if it had, Jack knew how ridiculous he would sound arguing that drinking from the same bottle would be too much after what they'd shared. He glanced at her. She had her face turned up, eyes closed. She wore a small smile. Her pose reminded him of a wildflower basking in a warm summer afternoon, its petals lush and fragrant.

Rose turned, sensing his eyes on her. "What is it?"

"Nothing," he said. "Just watching you."

Rose's smile deepened, a light blush spreading across her cheek. That she could still blush at all with him was absurd, but there was something in his eyes. A new look. It sent a shiver down her back. For a moment, she didn't care how many people saw; she just wished he would kiss her.

When it passed, she was glad he hadn't. They were far from alone, and despite her new boldness, there were still some lines she wasn't ready to cross. "I'm sorry neither of us has had much luck," she said.

"It's alright. Too soon to be worried," Jack said confidently. "We'll be fine. There's still a few places we haven't gone yet, and new things come up all the time."

"What's the longest it's taken you to find a job?"

"A week or two," he said. "It depends on where you are and how picky you are. You don't need to worry about that," he added. "You'll find something a lot better than I will."

"You know that know that, Jack."

"Rose, you're a beautiful, refined woman," he said. "Course you will."

"I'm more than that," she said.

"I know you are. I didn't mean-"

"I know you didn't," Rose said. "I'm a little sensitive, I guess. I'm so used to just being a pretty ornament." She sighed, wincing at the pain in her chest.

Jack leaned toward her, concerned. "You alright?"

"Fine."

"You don't hafta feel that way with me," he said. "That's not how I see you. Don't be afraid to tell me if something's wrong. We're gonna be honest with each other, right?"

"Always. I'm fine, Jack, really."

"I'm not trying to smother you, Rose, but you were pretty sick for a coupla days. I don't want that to happen again."

"Neither do I," she said.

...

Rose waited outside for him. She walked around the corner and down the street, making sure not to lose sight of how far she'd gone. She didn't know where they were in relation to the hotel; there had been too many turns since that morning, but she guessed they'd covered several miles, at least. If she got lost now, it might take all night to find her way back.

It was Jack's fourth attempt at getting hired. The first two jobs he'd tried for were already taken when they arrived, and the third didn't start for another month. It wasn't useless information, but it wasn't especially helpful either. She'd inquired about the stenographer position only to be flatly turned down due to a lack of typing skills. Rose wasn't discouraged, however. It was only one job; there were sure to be others.

The wind was picking up, and it felt even colder now. She didn't know how much longer he would be. Jack had warned it could take a while, but she'd been determined to go along anyway. Shivering, she stepped through a revolving door and found herself in a busy department store. Compared to the sort of places she'd shopped in before it wasn't much, but it was bright and warm, with neatly dressed employees. Walking around in here would be a much better distraction than pacing the streets, she decided.

...

Jack craned his neck in a futile attempt to spot her, but she was nowhere to be found. Even if her back was to him, he would've seen her hair. Where was she? Anxiety slowly knotted his stomach. She wouldn't just leave without telling him. If she were going back, she'd at least say good-bye.

She hadn't left him. That was crazy. Why was he even thinking that way? She'd probably just gotten tired of waiting there and taken a walk.

He turned at the sound of footsteps. She ran toward him, curls flying. Her cheeks were red from cold and exertion. He reached out to steady her. She leaned on him, gasping for breath. Her lungs ached. "Rose, did something happen?" he asked worriedly. "Where were you?"

"Something did happen," she choked out.

"What? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She took a gulp of air. It burned, but it also felt good. "Jack, the most incredible thing happened while I was waiting for you. I found a job!"

"You did?" He couldn't believe his ears. "How?"

"Well, I was taking a walk, and it was getting cold, so I went into a department store to wait for you," she explained. "I thought I'd get warm, and then I'd see if you were finished, but while I was in there I saw a Help Wanted sign, so I asked about it."

"And they gave you a job? Right then?"

Beaming, she nodded. "At the perfume counter. It's not much, but I found something!"

"It's great," he said.

"Do you really think so?"

"Of course I do. Rose, I'm really proud of you."

"How did things go for you?" she asked.

Jack grinned. "I got it."

"You did?" she cried happily. She threw her arms around him. "That's wonderful, Jack," she said into his neck. Hugging her close, he rested his chin on her hair. "We've had a good day," he said.

"We have."

"It's not over," he said. "There's still dinner."

"We don't have to do anything special."

"Sure we do," he said. "We need to celebrate."

"Jack-"

"Nothing crazy. I promise. Besides, I don't know enough about New York to even try anyway," he said. "Let's just find somewhere nice."

"Well, if you insist."

"I do," he said. He kissed her. "I really do."

Suddenly, Rose remembered where they were. She felt people watching them but couldn't bring herself to look. "We're rather conspicious, aren't we?"

"We're gettin some looks."

"I shouldn't have grabbed you like that," she said, stepping back.

"I didn't mind."

"I know _you_ didn't," she said good-naturedly.

Jack took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. "Don't worry about it," he said. "It's a big city. No-one'll think twice about us."

...

They settled on a pub-like place that reminded Jack of Ireland. In fac with the accents flying around, he felt like he was back there. They had a small table in the corner, perfect for watching the crowd. The air was thick with smoke, warm bodies, and the smells of cooking. Jack rubbed his fingers together.

"Do you want to smoke?" Rose asked.

"Kinda. I don't have anything." He shrugged. "It's probably for the best. It's starting to become a habit."

"That bothers you?"

"If I might waste money on it," he said.

"Very sensible. Exactly why I ran away with you."

His mouth curled in a half-smile. "And here I thought it was my charm that hooked you."

"You have charm? Jack, why didn't you tell me?" Rose laughed. Serious again, she said, "Don't deny yourself things because of me."

"I'm not. You gotta stop thinking that way. Yes, being with you has changed things," Jack said. "It will keep changing things-" She tried to interrupt, but he shook his head. "And Rose, if it means you stay with me, then I want it to," he said. "This, what we're doing, is not just another adventure; it's the best one I'll ever go on."

Rose's throat tightened making it even harder to breathe. "You truly know what to say to a girl, Jack."

"I meant it."

Of all the people who could've interrupted her that night, how had she gotten him? Turning away would've been so easy, but he hadn't. And he wouldn't, ever. She saw it in his eyes. It was the most reassuring thing she had ever seen. What did anything else matter with a promise like that to lean on?

...

Rose had never been so tired in her life. Who knew just standing and talking to people could be this draining? They asked the same questions over and over, one after another. She'd been briefed on what to say when she arrived that morning, and she'd wondered how it could possibly be enough information. Now, it was starting to seem like too much since she'd barely used any of it.

Her duties were light. She knew she had no right to complain. There were plenty of people working much harder than she was; Jack, for instance. At that very moment he was standing in the middle of an assembly line, squinting under the harsh light. He assured her it would be simple, but it still sounded difficult to her. The monotony alone would be awful. But he didn't seem to mind. If he could handle that, she could certainly handle this.

...

"I'm looking for something for my wife," the man said. He was dressed in a dark, wool suit. It was well-cut, but Rose could tell it wasn't expensive. It was just good enough to give off the illusion of wealth to untrained eyes. He wore a gold ring on his pinkie, conjuring images of Cal. She had to swallow her disgust. The only thing worse than Cal himself was someone trying to be like him.

"I can help you with that," she said, her voice soft and pleasant. "What does she like?"

He leaned toward her, his elbow on the counter. "What do _you_ normally like?"

Rose wanted to back away but knew she shouldn't. She picked up a bottle. "This one is nice," she said. "It's a gardenia scent. Very fresh and light."

His eyes traced her figure, lingering on the swell of her breasts. Rose stiffened slightly but otherwise didn't let her discomfort show. It was unpleasant, but it could be worse. He wasn't touching her, and he wasn't likely to.

"If you prefer, there's also this one. It's more of a violent scent," she said. "It's very popular." Actually, it wasn't, it she'd been told to say it was in hopes of selling the remaining stock.

"May I try it out?" he asked.

"Of course."

He looked disappointed when she handled him the bottle rather than offering her wrist. Rose smiled, feigning ignorance.

"Yes, I like this one," he said. "I'll take it."

"Wonderful."

...

She was already there when he came in. She was draped across a chair, her feet in the other. Her head was thrown back, eyes closed. Careful not to disturb her, Jack set his parcel on the table. He leaned down and lightly kissed her.

Rose's eyes opened. "Hello, Jack," she said with a smile.

"Hey."

"I didn't intend to fall asleep," she said.

"Rough day?"

"It wasn't so bad." Stretching, she sat up. "You can take that chair," she added, moving her feet to the floor. "I don't need both." She breathed slowly; each one hurt. Her head felt fuzzy, but she blamed tiredness for that. "How was your day?"

"Nothing exciting. It wasn't bad, though. I brought dinner," he said. "I also found this." He reached into the bag, and with a flourish, presented her with a small bouquet of pink stargazer lillies.

She gasped softly. "Jack, they're beautiful. You didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to. It's not much, but-"

"No, it is," she said. "It's probably the nicest thing I've ever gotten."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Well, you shouldn't," she said. "It's true."

...

Rose snuggled closer to him, pulling the blanket over her head. "You alright?" he murmured sleepily.

"Just cold."

"Want me to get the heat going?" he asked.

"I'll be alright. Go back to sleep."

"You feel warm. You sure..." He was asleep before he could finish the thought.

He wasn't wrong. She was almost hot to the touch, but she was also covered in goosebumps. She couldn't get warm; the chill ran too deep. Eventually, she settled into a fitful sleep.

Her shivering woke him. Jack hugged her tighter, but she kept shivering. He touched her cheek. It was hot. "Rose," he said, giving her a light shake.

"Mm-hmm."

"Rose," he said, louder this time. "Wake up."

"Why?" she asked. He was already getting out of bed. "Where are you going?" She put a hand over her eyes when the light came on.

"Here, take some of this." He held out a spoonful of the cold medicine. "I think you've got a fever."

Rose grimaced at the taste. "I don't need any more," she said. "I can take another dose in the morning."

Jack didn't argue. He climbed back into bed and put his arms around her. "Have you been feeling sick?"

"Not really," she answered. She didn't consider it a lie. Closing her eyes, she settled against him. "It's probably just a lingering symptom or something like that."

"Yeah. Probably."

"It's nothing to worry about," she said.

...

As promised, Rose took another dose of medicine when she got up. "I feel much better," she said. "I doubt I even need this."

" _I'll_ feel better knowing you took it," Jack said. "I'm not trying to smother you," he added. "But you haven't been exposed to a lot of things."

"Yes, I have."

"Your body hasn't," he said. "Not to being out in the cold and being sick."

"I knew what you meant. I just hate being so delicate."

"You're not," he assured her.

"Then why did you get a simple cold and snap right out of it?" she asked. "Jack, you just said my body isn't as strong as it could be, and you're right. There's nothng I can do about it except adapt."

"Which takes time."

"I know," she said, sighing.

"I'm sorry, Rose. I don't mean to sound so condescending," he said. "I just don't want you pushing yourself too hard or getting frustrated with yourself."

"I'm not," she said. "I'm keeping things in perspective. Sooner or later I might slip and get impatient, but so far that hasn't happened. And I really do feel better."

Jack pulled her into a hug. "Good." He kissed the top of her head.

"Are _you_ alright?"

"Me? I'm fine."

"You're not still feeling guilty, are you?" she asked. His eyes clouded. "You don't have to talk about it," she added.

"I've been trying not to think about it."

"Jack, I'm sorry-"

"No, it's fine," he said. "I shouldn't try to bury those feelings. We don't have time right now, but maybe tonight."

"We can look for them."

Jack nodded. "I know. I'm not sure..."

Rose squeezed his hands. "You don't have to be sure. Take your time. I'll be here when you're ready."

"Have I told you I love you today?"

She smiled. "You just did."


	5. Chapter 5

Rose had never been so tired in her life. She'd believed she knew what exhaustion felt like, but now she saw she'd been grossly mistaken. Nothing, not even the sinking, had prepared her for her first week behind the perfume counter.

It wasn't difficukt, at least, not in theory, but after eight hours on her feet, Rose could have fallen into bed and gone right to sleep. The customers fatigued her even more. Keeping a smile on her face took nearly all of her self-control.

They weren't all bad; in fact, a few were actually quite nice, but they were overshadowed by the rest. The rude women, the pushy men, several of whom attempted to grab her hands. Then there were the young people with no money who wasted her time asking for endless sample sprays.

The other girls were nice, and Rose wanted to befriend them, but she feared saying too much. She didn't fit in; that was obvious, though no-one said so directly. She watched them, eager to learn everything about this new world.

Her chest still hurt. It wasn't so bad in the warm store, but the chilly spring air cut through her lungs like knives. It took hours to get warm enough for it to stop. In fact, she was almost always cold lately. Rose told herself their room was drafty, and the water was cold, and that's all it was.

It was a perfectly reasonable explanation, and yet, each day she felt a little worse.

...

She was already in bed when he came in. The blankets were tucked around her, nearly covering her head. Only a few curls peeked out. Jack tossed his clothes on a chair and slipped in next to her. They were still wet from the sudden rainstorm. Most likely, he'd regret not hanging them up to dry, but at that moment he was too tired and cold to care.

Jack wrapped his arms around Rose, pulling her close. He pressed his face into her neck, breathing her in. "You're so warm," he murmured.

"Jack?" Her voice was thick with sleep.

"Mmhmm."

Rose placed a hand over his. "I'm glad you're here," she whispered.

"Me too."

...

Something wasn't right. Jack blinked the sleep from his eyes and looked into the darkness. What had disturbed him? He listened but heard nothing unusual. Was it a dream? He couldn't remember dreaming.

He reached over, lightly touching Rose's cheek, and was startled by how hot it was. She was curled up in a ball, clutching the blankets despite the heat radiating from her.

"Rose." Jack shook her. She didn't stir. "Rose," he said again, louder this time. She murmured in response, but her eyes remained closed. "Wake up," he said.

"Why?" she asked hoarsely. Her throat was dry, and so was her mouth. Rose sighed. She tried to move, but her limbs felt like lead. Her body was on fire, and yet somehow she was freezing. She was vaguely aware of Jack getting out of bed. "Where are you going?"

"C'mon," he said, putting his arms around her. "You gotta sit up."

"I can't."

"You can," he said.

Rose felt herself moving. It seemed to take so long. What was wrong with her? Her eyes began to close. Sleep beckoned.

"No, Rose, I need you to stay awake," Jack said, shaking her gently.

"Why?" She yawned. It burned her throat.

"You gotta drink this." He held the bottle of medicine to her lips.

"I don't need..." Rose trailed off Speaking had suddenly become much too difficult.

"Yeah, you do, Rose. Please," he said. "Just a little."

Rose's hand closed weakly around the bottle. She took a sip. Wrinkling her nose, she said, "There."

"A little more."

"Jack," she whined.

"Please? You're burning up." He pressed his palm against her cheek. Her eyes were glassy. A knot of worry formed in his stomach. Was this the same cold from the _Carpathia_? She'd said she felt better; she'd _seemed_ better. He wished they had a thermometer, though he knew it wouldn't really help. Knowing how high her temperature had gone would only make him worry more.

"Fine. If you insist," Rose said. She turned up the bottle and took a large gulp. She shuddered. "It's _awful_."

"I know." Jack stroked her cheek with his thumb. She closed her eyes. "Ready to go back to sleep?" he asked.

She nodded. "Will you still hold me?"

"Course I will."

...

Jack presed his hand to her forehead. He frowned. He pressed his wrist to her cheek.

"Can it truly be that different?" Rose asked.

"It's a little different," he replied. "Not much."

The same could be said about her temperature. He poured a spoonful of medicine. Rose started to protest, but stopped when she saw the worry in his eyes.

The bottle was nearly empty, and they were out of food. Outside, a cold rain fell. The room was as warm as he could get it, but there was still a chill in the air. Jack tucked the blankets around her. "I'm gonna go get some breakfast and another bottle of medicine," he said.

"Do we have enough money for-"

"We're fine," he assured her. "Trust me."

"I trust you."

He kissed her forehead. "I'll be back soon."

...

Jack walked quickly. He kept his head down, hands in his pockets, and shoulders squared against the rain. He found a drugstore a few blocks away.

A blast of hot air hit him as he stepped inside. It was clean and bright, with well-stocked shelves. A man stood behind the counter.

Jack took the old bottle from his pocket. "Do you sell this?" he asked.

The man studied the label. "I've got something similar," he replied. "How much d'you need?"

"A bottle like this should do it."

The man nodded. He disappeared into the back and returned a moment later with a slightly smaller bottle. "It's $3."

Jack had hoped it would be less expensive, but he didn't hesitate before handing over the money. It cut into their savings, but there wasn't any use worrying about that. Rose needed it.

...

"I thought you'd be asleep," Jack said. He set his purchases on the table.

"I think I dozed off for a bit," Rose said. "But I haven't felt like sleeping properly."

"Maybe some food'll help. I got that chicken soup you like. It's still warm."

She smiled. "You didn't have to do that."

Jack pulled a chair over to the side of the bed. "You're sick," he said. "You need soup."

He unwrapped the bowl, and a delicious smell filled the air. Rose breathed deeply. A sharp pain filled her chest. Grimacing, she began to cough. Jack leaned closer. "Rose, are you alright?" His blue eyes widened in concern.

"I'm fine," she choked out.

"You sure? You don't sound fine."

Rose nodded. "How about that soup?"

...

Rose settled her head against his chest. Jack wrapped his arm around her. She curled her leg through his, Gently, he ran his fingers through her hair. "Tell me a story?" she asked.

"What kind of story?"

She yawned. "Any kind. Tell me about your travels."

"I picked oranges for a couple weeks once."

"Did you really?" she said.

"Uh-huh. When I was in California. There's lotsa orange groves out there. And peaches," he added. "The sun never stopped shining, and the air smelled so sweet. You could eat the ones that fell on the ground."

"And did you?"

"Until I made myself sick." Jack laughed. "I'd had peaches before, but I'd never seen an orange up close. I couldn't get enough of 'em."

"Have you ever had them with chocolate?"

"No."

"It's delicious," Rose said. "You'll love it."

"We'll get some when we go."

Rose closed her eyes. Every breath hurt. She felt the slow rise and fall of his chest. Hos arm was a reassuring weight. He kissed her forehead. "You should rest," he said.

"I am resting."

"You should sleep then," he said.

"I will," she replied. "Keep talking, Jack. Please?"

...

Jack told her about the French countryside, about eating fresh baguettes and cheese every day for lunch because it was all he could afford. "But it tasted great," he said. "And it kept me full. It was like lunch and dinner in one."

He told her about the cafe owner who sometimes let him trade drawings for meals, and the cheap bottle of wine he was given in exchange for drawing the man's wife.

"It was good wine, but it gave me a terrible headache," he laughed.

"You should stick to champagne," Rose said. She coughed, and her body shook. It seemed to grip her, building into a deep hacking. Her chest burned. Jack carefully pulled her into a sitting position. "Try to cough up the phlegm," he said.

"There's nothing." Rose let out a deep breath. "It just _hurts_."

He rubbed her back. "It's almost time for more medicine."

She frowned. "Is it really?"

"Yeah, and you gotta take it. How else are you gonna get better?" he asked. He brushed a curl away from her face and kissed her cheek.

"I feel alright. A little more sleep, and I'll be fine."

"Drink some more anyway? Just in case?" he said.

"Oh, fine."

...

Eventually, they fell asleep. Rose woke up to the sun shining on her face. She looked over at the clock. There was still time to make it to work, if she hurried. She slipped out of Jack's arms. Shivering, she made her way over to her clothes. The wood floor was like ice on her bare feet. She pulled her nightgown over her head and dressed quickly.

She buttoned her coat up to the neck, but she was still shivering. Rose told herself the store would be warm, and there might be coffee in the back room. That was sure to knock the chill out of her.

She looked over at Jack. He was sleeping peacefully. It would be a shame to wake him, but if she didn't he might miss work.

She bent down and touch his shoulder. "Jack?" A cough threatened to overtake her. She held her breath against it. "Jack, wake up."

"Mmm...Hhmm."

She shook him. "It's morning."

Unable to hold it back any longer, she coughed into her hands. Rose felt herself wheeze. Her chest ached, but there was something else there also. It was like something was sitting on her lungs. Or was it in them?

She coughed again, louder and more painfully this time. She doubled over in a vain attempt to keep quiet.

Suddenly, Jack's arms were around her. "Rose, what are you doing up?" he said.

"I have to-" A cough cut her off.

"You hafta get back to bed," he said, gently leading her back to it.

"But work-"

"You don't have work today, remember?"

"Don't I?" Rose said. She looked around in confusion.

Jack shook his head. "No, Rose. C'mon, you need to rest."

"But I thought..." The edge of her mind were fuzzy. What day was it? She could've sworn it was a weekday. She shivered. "Alright."

"Do you want to keep your coat on?"

"I'm cold," she said.

"Alright. We'll let you stay dressed for now," he said. "Do you want some water?"

She nodded. "Yes, please."

"I'll get it."

Jack gently lifted her head so she could drink. "How's that feel?" he asked.

"Better."

He rubbed her back through the coat. "You shouldn't be going anywhere today," he said.

"But Jack, if I did have to work-"

"You'd still need to stay in bed."

"Jack, I can't-"

"Yes, you can, Rose," he insisted. "There are other jobs. Besides, they wouldn't let you work like this anyway."

"I'm not that sick." As if on cue, she coghed again. Rose sucked in a ragged breath as it morphed into a full-blown fit. She leaned forward, clutching her chest. Tears stung her eyes. She was gasping for breath by the time it subsided.

Jack kept his tone light, but he couldn't quite mask the worry in his eyes. "You sure would if you went out in the cold like this," he said.

"I've never felt this way." She closed her eyes as the room began spinning.

"It's because you were in that water." He put his arm around her. "Lie down, Rose."

"I can't sleep."

"You don't have to," he said softly. "Just rest."

...

No matter what he did, Jack couldn't get the chill out of their room. Rain pounded against the window, and dampness slowly crept in. He propped a pillow behind Rose, hoping it would help her breathe. It was hard to tell if it had any effect. She was still coughing, only now they seemed to be getting thicker. Her face was flushed, and her eyes were bleary.

"Jack?"

"Right here," he said reassuringly. He sat on the edge of the bed, the last of the soup in his hand. "You think you can eat a little?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Maybe just a few bites?" he said encouragingly. "You haven't eaten today."

"Maybe a few bites."

He fed her slowly. She ate until the bowl was dry. "How ya feel now?" he asked.

"A little better," Rose said. She closed her eyes and let out a long, ragged breath. "Jack, could you hold me for a little while? Please?"

"Of course I can."

Jack climbed into bed next to her. He wrapped his arms around her. She settled her head on his shoulder, her arm draped across him. He kissed her forehead and was dismayed by how hot it still was.

Shivering, Rose pulled the blankets tighter around her. "Would you talk to me?"

"Yeah. About what?"

"Anything. I don't care." She closed her eyes. "I just want to hear your voice."

Jack ran his fingers through her curls. "You ever been to Belgium?"

She shook her head. "What's it like?"

"A lot like France, actually. At least, the part I saw. It's a lot smaller, though," he said. "I spent a coupla weeks there. It was an accident. I got lost and somehow ended up over the border."

Rose laughed softly. "How long did it take you to find out?"

"Longer than you'd think." He chuckled. "They speak French there too, so I knew I was lost, but I had no idea I was in another country. I walked to this town, and I barely spoke French, but I was still trying to ask for directions. Finally someone told me where I was."

"Then what?"

"Then I looked for a place to sleep that night. I found a room above a bakery. Well, it was more like an attic they used for storage. I couldn't even stand up all the way, but all the smells from the bakery came right up there, and it was warm from the ovens. I only had enough money for a few rolls, so I spent the night dreaming about cakes."

Jack paused. Rose seemed to be asleep. Still, he kept going, explaining the next two weeks in detail, just in case she woke up again.

...

He would have to get more food. There was still plenty of medicine, but as he listened to her breathing, Jack wondered if it was strong enough. It was only cough syrup, but wasn't that what she needed? Surely that was the heart of the problem?

He brushed his lips across her cheek. Still hot. There was no doubt she had a fever, but what should he do about it? He remembered hearing about bathing in cold water to bring down fevers, but it was too cold for that. She'd just get even worse.

No, Jack decided. What she needed was a doctoer. His heart sank. How would he ever pay for one? Even if they let him pay the bill over time, he still didn't have the money to buy food, pay rent, and pay the fee a doctor would probably charge up front just to see her. And there was medicine to consider. He'd wanted to save as much money as possible so they'd have some options, but there was no way he could stick to that plan now.

There was a chance this would clear up, but what if it didn't? What if the damp and the cold made it worse? Could he really take that chance?

Jack rakd his fingers through his hair. "First things first," he said. "Food."

He picked up Cal's coat, intending to lay it across Rose like a blanket, but stopped when the pocket smacked his leg. He reached in. His eyes widened as his hand closed acround a familiar shape. Heart pounding, he reached into the other pocket.

Jack gasped. He stared at the stack of crisp bills in his hand.


	6. Chapter 6

The thought of keeping Cal's money nauseated him, but Jack knew he had to push past his disgust-not to mention his pride-and do what was best for Rose. She needed medicine and a doctor. She needed out of the cold and damp. She needed good, nourishing meals. And money was the onlly way to give any of it to her.

Sure, he was working, and eventually he'd save up enough for them to move somewhere better, or, if they were lucky, out of New York entirely, but eventually wasn't enough anymore. As if to empashize this fact, Rose loudly coughed in her sleep.

She whimpered in pain. Her throat ached from coughing, but she burrowed into the blanket, still mostly asleep.

"Jack?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

Jack kissed her forehead. "I'm here, Rose," he said reassuringly.

Was he imagining it, or was her breathing getting thicker? Either way, he was wasting time standing there debating with himself.

"I'll be back soon, Petal," he promised. "I'm just gonna get some things we need. Rest, alright?" He kissed her forehead again. "Everything'll be fine."

...

At least the bills were twenties. Jack doubted he could've used them if they'd been any larger. Even a twenty earned a few curious looks in that neighborhood, especially when they were in such pristine condition. Fortunately, no-one asked where he'd gotten them or refused to take them, so Jack didn't worry about it.

Rose was in no state to walk, so he focused only on what could be brought back to their room. They'd find a new place when she was feeling better. He didn't know where to find a reputable doctor, but he figured he could ask around. Someone had to know.

Jack's arms were laden with packagesas he came up the stairs. Among his purchases were two kinds of medicine, a wool blanket, a flannel robe, wool socks, a thermometer, a fresh loaf of bread, cheese, a roasted chicken, and two books.

Jack didn't see the woman as he rounded the corner. He was too busy trying to fish his key out of his pocket without dropping anything.

She stood next to their door and turned at his approach. "I was hoping to find one of you at home," she said.

She was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place her. "Can I help you, ma'am?" he asked.

"Yes. You may not remember me. I'm Mrs. Fairfax, from the Ladies' Temperance Union."

"Oh. Yeah, I remember you." He smiled politely. "What brings you down here?"

Her smile was warm. "It's routine to check in with the people we've assisted, and given the extent of the tragedy you've endured, I wanted to personally verify the welfare of as many people as possible."

"Thank you. That's very generous of you."

Her brown eyes held a searching look. "And how is your wife?"

"She's-" Jack hesitated. If he told the truth, would this woman help? Or would she insist on knowing more about them? No doubt she'd want to contact their families. Would she believe him if he said they were both orphans? He didn't know the particulars, but he'd heard there were laws against young women living alone, and he was sure those included young women who lived with men out of wedlock. What if, somehow, this woman found out and used it against them?

But there was no reason for her to suspect they weren't married, and if she could help him find a doctor, wasn't that more important than his vague fears and what-ifs?

"She's sick," he answered. "I think it's a bad cold, or maybe a flu. Probably from being in the water. I was out getting medicine and food for her."

Jane glanced at his bundles. "Yes, I see that. Has she been examined by a doctor?"

"No. It wasn't that bad at first, and I don't know where to find a good one. This is my first time in New York."

"Well, if you don't mind I can take a look at her for now," she offered. "And I may know one we can contact."

"Would you? I'd really appreciate that. I've never taken care of anyone like this," Jack admitted. "I'm doing my best, but maybe there's something I'm missing."

"Let's find out."

...

Rose was still sleeping peacefully, much to Jack's relief. He stood off to the side while Jane looked her over. "How is she?" he asked.

"I'm not a doctor, but I've raised three children, all of whom got very ill at one time or another," Jane replied. "And I hate to say this, but she's on her way to being very ill indeed."

"What can I do for her?"

"To start, she needs a doctor." She looked around. "And to be somewhere warmer, with less dampness."

"I was gonna start looking for another room as soon as she was able to get out of bed."

"She may not be able to wait that long."

A knot formed in the pit of his stomach, but Jack ignored it. "I can start looking today," he said. "I'm sure I can find something quick."

Jane studied his face. He was so earnest. His love for this girl was obvious, and as she looked down at her, Jane was reminded once again of her own daughter. "No doubt you can," she said. "You seem like a capable young man. However, I suspect there's something you're not telling me."

The knot tightened. "What do you mean?"

"This girl doesn't belong here, and if I'm not mistaken, neither do you."

...

"Jack?" Rose whispered hoarsely.

"Right here, Petal." He squeezed her hand.

She tried to open her eyes, but they were too heavy. She sighed. She had the vague sensation of movement, but it had to be her imagination.

"Go back to sleep," he said. He kissed her forehead. "Everything's fine."

...

It was the nicest house he'd ever been in. Though, of course, it hardly compared to the First Class suites aboard the _Titanic_. Jane led them to a spacious room on the second floor, ignoring the maid's curious stare as Jack passed, cradling Rose in his arms.

"I'll send someone for your things," Jane said.

Jack settled Rose into bed. "You don't hafta do that. I'll go back and get them."

"Nonsense," she replied. "You don't look too well yourself. You should stay here with your wife, and once everything's settled, and you've eaten, we'll see about fetching the doctor. He lives nearby, so it won't him long to get here."

It was clear from her tone she wouldn't hear any arguments. "Alright," Jack said. "Thank you, Mrs. Fairfax. Really. You didn't have to do all this. I woulda managed."

"Don't worry about it," she said warmly. "I'm happy to have help to offer. We can discuss everything later. And you may call me Jane."

"Are you sure? I don't want-"

"We're not a terrible formal household," she replied. "And since you're our guests, I think we should be on friendly terms, don't you?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah, I agree."

"I'll go make arrangements for your things and have something sent up for your lunch."

"Thank you. Jane."

She nodded. "You're quite welcome."

When she was gone, Jack slipped out of his coat and shoes and climbed into bed next to Rose. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. Even through her clothes he felt how unnaturally warm she was. Frowning, he kissed her forehead. Why hadn't the fever gone down? Wasn't the medicine helping at all?

At least she'd see a doctor soon. Jack sighed heavily and closed his eyes. His shoulders ached. He gently combed her curls with his fingers.

"Come Josephine, my flying machine," he sang softly. "Going up she goes."

Rose was still sleeping when he finished the song, so he started again, stopping only when lunch arrived.

...

"You've brought home more strays then?" Oscar regarded his wife with mild amusement. "Well, I knew it was only a matter of time," he added. "Who are they?"

"A young couple. I met them when I was distributing baskets to the _Titanic_ survivors."

His eyes widened. " _Titanic_ survivors? Really? I must say, that's rather interesting. Don't they have any family in the area?"

Jane shook her head. "It doesn't seem that way. I've only spoken to the husband this time. The wife is quite ill. I'm hoping Dr. Bennett will see her today."

"So that's why you've brought them home."

"I couldn't ignore them. Especially that young woman. She can't be any older than Amelia, and she's clearly suffering. He was doing his best to care for her, but there's no way she would've recovered in that damp, drafty room."

Oscar smiled. "My wife the philanthropist," he said affectionately.

"Hardly. I merely do what I can."

"It's more than most with twice your resources ever bother to do," he pointed out.

"That's not something I can change."

"Where are they from?" he asked.

"I hadn't thought to ask yet," Jane replied. "They're Americans."

"What were they doing? Touring Europe?"

"Something like that," she said.

Jack's story made sense; it was more than plausible, and in fact, it had a distinct ring of truth. Yet something didn't quite feel right. But what?

...

Someone was touching her. Cold hands pressed against her neck. Rose slowly opened her eyes and found herself looking up at an older, mustached man. The room was full of light, much more than usual. The bed felt different, and the air smelled different. What was going on?

"I'm Dr. Bennett." His voice was kind. "There's no need to be alarmed. I've been asked to see how you are."

"How I am?" Rose's head swam. Everything felt off-kilter. Where had this supposed doctor come from? Had Jack found him? How would they pay him? Where was Jack?"

She tried to sit up, but he gently pushed her back down. "You don't need to get out of bed. You're a rather sick girl, and you need rest."

"But I have to work," Rose argued weakly. "I'm not that sick. It's just a cold." She blinked against the light. Had it somehow gotten brighter? It pierced her eyes.

"The only thing you need to do is rest," he said.

"But-" A cough cut her off. She pressed a hand to her chest, bracing herself against the pain.

"My point exactly. No arguing."

...

Jack was waiting by the door when Edmund came out. At first he'd refused to leave the room, but the doctor insisted, saying he would only get in the way. Reluctantly, Jack agreed, though only because Jane assured him Edmund was one of the finest doctors in the area.

"Well?" Jack asked. "How is she?"

"She's very sick, just as you thought. I'm sorry to say it looks like pneumonia."

Jack held his breath. "Pneumonia? Are you sure?"

Edmund nodded. "She has all the usual symptoms. Fever, chills, fatigue, a phlegmy cough, pain in the chest, difficulty breathing."

"She might not have chest pain," Jack argued. "She never said she did. I just thought it seemed like she might."

"And that's how it looked to me too. Though I'd like to come back tomorrow and speak with her."

"Didn't you speak to her just now?"

Edmund shook his head. "She was asleep. She only woke up right at the end, and I'm not sure she was fully aware of what was going on. She seemed disoriented. I saw no reason to disturb her any further."

"Yeah, I understand. Thank you."

"I've left some medicine on the nighttable. The instructions are on the bottles. If you have any questions we can discuss them."

"I'm sure I can figure it out," Jack said.

There was a distant look in his eyes. He'd expected Rose to have the flu, most like a particularly nasty one, but he wasn't prepared for this. He'd heard the flu could be fatal, but that was usually without proper care, wasn't it? He couldn't remember ever actually hearing about anyone dying from it. But pneumonia, now _that_ was a killer.

"How bad is it?" Jack asked.

"I'm afraid I can't really say yet. It seems to still be in the early stages. I believe it's treatable, but she's going to be weak for a while even after she's better," Edmund explained. "What can you tell me about her medical history?"

"Not much. She's never mentioned being sick before. I'm pretty sure nothing like this has ever happened to her."

"I'll ask her about it tomorrow. In the meantime, be sure she takes the proper doeses, drinks plenty of water, and stays in bed."

"I will," Jack said.

...

"I saw Dr. Bennett leaving. Who's sick?"Amelia asked. She took a seat on the sofa, opposite her brother, Stanley. At 21, she was the middle child. Stanley was the youngest at 19. The eldest, Alvin, was 25 and already married with a home of his own.

"Mother brought home more strays," Stanley replied, not bothering to look up from his newspaper.

"Already? The last ones just left a few weeks ago."

"She works fast."

"Do you know anything about them?"

"Not much," he said. "They're a young couple, probably about our ages. The doctor was here to see the lady."

"That's too bad. I hope she's not terribly sick." She rested her chin in her hand. "Have you met them?"

"Not yet."

"Why aren't you more interested?" she asked.

"We'll meet them when we meet them," he said, shrugging.

"I suppose you're right. How different can they be from the others?"

...

Rose slowly opened her eyes. The room was completely different. There was no mistaking this one for theirs. Where was she? How had she gotten there?

Her head ached as she struggled to sit up. Her vision was blurry at the edges, but she could still see the furniture was of a good quality, and the rugs were thick and soft. There was none of the opulence she was used to, but there wasn't any shabbiness either.

It took a moment to fully realize she was alone. The other side of the bed was rumpled but still made. The curtains had been drawn, shutting out that awful light, and the door was closed.

"Jack?" she called, her voice cracking.

Where was he? He wouldn't leave her. No, no of course he wouldn't. What an absurd notion. But then where was he? Why was she in this strange place?

It was all too much. The room spun. She closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted again.

...

Rose heard men's voices. One of them sounded like Jack, but maybe she was imagining it. It was nearly impossible to be sure about anything now.

She tried to open her eyes, but sleep held her in its grip. She reached for Jack, only to find the other side of the bed was still empty. Dejection washed over her. _Where was he?_

...

She was so hot and yet so cold. The quilts were unbearably heavy, but Rose instinctively knew better than to throw them off. She tossed and turned, caught somewhere between waking and dreaming. Coughs wracked her body.

She felt a hand on her face, but when she opened her eyes no-one was there. Or were they? Was she simply not seeing them? Was she imagining things? If only she could know for sure.

...

Jack kissed her forhead. If she didn't wake up in an hour, he was supposed to wake her. The medicine was needed to be taken twice a day, with a meal. She still hadn't eaten that day, and as far as he could tell, she hadn't fully woken up since that morning.

"Let's get married when this is all over," he whispered. "I'll find a ring and ask you properly."

He lay next to her, his arm draped across her. Jack knew he probably shouldn't be this close, but he didn't care. The doctor hadn't warned against it, but it stood to reason that pneumonia might be contagious. He didn't know, nor did he care. Jack trusted, as he always did, in his ability to survive whatever came at him.

Rose, on the other hand, was different. She was delicate. She'd hate if he said so, but it was true. She had none of his tolerance for the elements, none of his experience with being hungry or tired or cold. She was strong, but it took time to build up endurance. If left in the wrong conditions for too long, she'd wilt. She already was, he realized with a heavy heart.

"It's gonna be alright," he whispered. "I promise. It's nice and warm here. You don't hafta worry about anything. You can rest and get better." He brushed her hair back. "And I'm here. I won't leave you, Rose." He didn't know if she heard him in her sleep, but kept talking anyway. "I found some things, and we're gonna have to talk about them when you're well again. It doesn't matter right now. I had to use some of it. I hope you understand. I think you will."

Jack closed his eyes and held her were together. They were safe. Rose was getting the care she needed. That was all that mattered for the moment. He could put the burden down. There would be plenty of time to take it back up again later.

...

Rose heard another voice. It sounded familiar, though she couldn't make out what it said. She couldn't draw a breath without coughing. If only she had a glass of water. Surely that would help.

She opened her mouth to ask for one, but no sound came out. Where was her voice? What was happening?

Rose looked around. The room seemed different. Or was it only her imagination? Nothing felt certain anymore. Tears filled her eyes. Where was Jack?

...

Rose whimpered in her sleep, and Jack rubbed her back. "It's alright," he said soothingly. "I'm here."

 **AN: I want to thank everyone who's been following and reviewing this story! I'm excited to be working on it again. I'm also working on my other stories, and new chapters are coming soon. Merry Christmand and Happy Holidays everyone!**


	7. Chapter 7

"What's happening?" Rose murmured. She looked around, but her eyes were bleary. All she could make out were vague shapes. She blinked, and the room came into slightly better focus. She saw Jack sitting on the edge of the bed. Relief washed over her. "There you are."

"Yeah, it's me." He grinned and squeezed her hand.

"I couldn't find you. I thought maybe you'd left."

"No." Jack kissed her knuckles. "I'd never leave you."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."

"I was afraid, Jack. When I woke up alone…"

"You don't hafta be afraid. Trust me." He kissed her hand again, giving it another squeeze. "But you've gotta take some medicine," he said.

"I already did this morning," she protested weakly.

"I know, but it's been a while. It's time for more. It'll only take a second, and then you can go back to sleep."

She swallowed two spoonfuls of the foul-tasting stuff, wrinkling her nose as it went down. She settled back against the pillows. Her eyes closed. She felt Jack pull the covers over her. "Rest," he said, kissing her forehead.

…..

Rose heard Jack's voice. It was a soft whisper in her ear. "We should go to California after this. Stay where it's warm for a while. I've never been to the Southwest, but I've heard it's beautiful. Maybe there's artists out there painting the desert. We could try that."

Her limbs were heavy; even raising her head was too much work. Her eyes cracked open, and she saw him. He lay next to her, undressed for bed, golden hair falling over his eyes. Her own voice was scarcely a whisper. "Jack?"

His heart leapt. "I'm here, Rose baby." He cupped her cheek. "You're safe. Everything's alright."

"Where are we?"

"I'll explain later, when you're feelin better."

"Why do I feel so awful?" She shivered. "I can't get warm, but I'm so hot...Everything hurts, Jack." Her body shook was a coughing fit overtook her. Tears filled her eyes, and she gasped for breath. Jack winced as he heard the thickness in her lungs.

"You're sick, Rose Petal," he said. "Sicker than we thought, but you're gonna get better. Trust me."

Rose closed her eyes, exhausted by even these small efforts. "Will you hold me?"

He wrapped his arms around her. "Of course I will."

"You won't get it, will you?"

"Not a chance." He kissed her cheek. "Don't worry."

…

She didn't hear his voice anymore. Now it sounded like Cal, but it couldn't be. Cal had no idea where they were. Even with all of his money, he couldn't have found them so quickly, and that was supposing he cared enough to try. There were plenty of other women he could marry. Why would he bother chasing down Rose after everything that had happened?

And yet, it was unmistakable. She'd know those arrogant tones anywhere.

Rose opened her eyes. The room was dark. There was no sign of Jack. Where had he gone? She strained her ears, hoping to catch a response from him, but there was nothing.

Cal's words were muffled, though she was able to make out her name. Her heart beat faster. Did he know they were here? Did he have something to do with Jack's disappearance? Or was it some bizarre coincidence?

Rose braced herself as a cough welled up in her throat. She had to stay quiet; she mustn't draw his attention.

….

At that moment, Jack was downstairs having dinner with the family. He'd been reluctant to leave Rose, but Jane insisted, saying he needed to eat, and a little time around other people would be good for him. Rose was sleeping soundly, so he gave in.

The dining room was well-lit and tastefully decorated. It was large enough for a party, and yet it still felt cozy with just the five of them gathered around the table. Jane and Oscar sat at each end. Amelia and Stanley were on each side, with Jack seated next to Stanley. He couldn't help glancing at the empty chair next to Amelia and wishing Rose could be there.

"Tell us about yourself, Jack," Oscar began.

"There's not much to tell, really," Jack replied.

"Everyone has a story," Amelia said. "We heard you were onboard the _Titanic."_

Jack nodded. "Yeah, my wife, Rose, and me."

"How did you manage to survvie?" Oscar asked.

"We nearly didn't. We ended up in the water. It was a miracle we were found in time." Jack looked down at his plate, his expression somber.

"He may not wish to relive such a harrowing experience," Jane said gently.

"Forgive us, please," Amelia said.

Jack summoned a grin. "No need. I'd be curious too. I'll tell you about it eventually."

"What were you doing before that?" Oscar asked.

"We were in Europe. We'd gone to see the great art of Paris."

"Really?" Stanley's interest was piqued. "Are either of you artists?"

"You could say I am." Jack shrugged. "I draw."

"Did you ever have any training?" Stanley asked.

"No. I guess I've been teaching myself. Studying other artists' techniques and such. Always practicing. You know. Just trying to get better."

"Do you have any drawings with you?" Stanley asked.

Jack shook his head. "I lost 'em all in the sinking. I haven't had a chance to draw anything since then. I don't even have the supplies for it."

"You can use some of mine," Stanley offered.

"I can't do that. Your family's already-"

"It's fine," Stanley said. "I have plenty. More than I need, really, and it would be fun to compare styles. Maybe you could offer me some guidance."

Jack hesitated. "Alright," he said. "But you should let me pay you back."

Jane dismissed the notion with a wave of her hand. "Don't worry about anything like that right now."

Jack started to reply but thought better of it. The truth was, he didn't know how he'd ever repay this family. He had Cal's money, but how would he explain that? It would go a long way toward taking care of Rose, but thanks to Jane, all the detials had already been seen to. He didn't have to find a better room or a reliable doctor. He could even go to work without leaving Rose alone. He could trust she'd be well cared for.

Even so, Jack doubted he'd return to his job, assuming he still had one after missing that day. It wasn't just because he had Cal's money- _their_ money, he corrected himself-to fall back on; it was also because he didn't want to be that far away from Rose if he didn't have to be.

Jack knew he chances for recovery were high. She was young and strong; she had a good doctor and a nice, warm bed, along with anything else she might need. Still, he couldn't help worrying. What if something happened to her? And even worse, what if he wasn't there when it did?

…

"Jack?" Rose blinked into the darkness, unsure of how much time had passed. The movement of the bed woke her. She felt his body close to hers.

"Yeah, I'm here," he whispered. He put his arm around her. "I'm not supposed to sleep with you like this," he added.

"Because I'm sick."

"Uh-huh." Jack kissed her cheek. Still hot, but it was a little cooler than before.

"I don't want you catching it."

"I won't." he assured her. "Trust me."

"You said that before, but how can you be certain?"

"I just know," he replied.

"Jack, you can't know that."

"I don't want you sleeping alone, Rose."

Something nagged at her. It was just past the edge of her consciousness. Something had happened. Or had it been a dream? Rose's head ached. Her lungs burned with every breath she drew. Trying to remember only made her feel worse.

But it was important; she knew that much. Fear lingered, along with the sense that something wasn't right. She still had no idea where they were, but Jack insisted everything was fine. They were safe. What if he was wrong? What if, somehow, he was unaware of the danger?

Rose's stomach twisted. How could she possibly suggest such a thing when she wasn't even sure what was real and what wasn't? What if _none_ of it was real? What if it all was just some fever dream, and they were still back in their drafty, little room?

Jack gave her a squeeze. "You alright?"

"I'm fine."

"You sure, Petal? You need something?"

"May I have some water?" she asked.

"Of course."

Jack returned a moment later, glass in hand. "Here ya go."

Rose drank greedily, relishing the soothing moisutre on her throat. "Thank you."

"Do you want more?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm alright now."

Jack cupped her cheek. Still just as warm. He should've expected that, but he couldn't help hoping otherwise. He kissed her forehead. "You should rest."

"Jack, tell me what's going on first. Where are we?"

"You remember that lady who helped us out?"

"The one from the docks? The charity worker? What does she have to do with this?"

"It's her house," he explained.

"What? Jack, why-"

"I'll tell you the whole story in the morning. I promise," he said. "We're safe. Everything's fine."

"Jack, there isn't anyone else here, is there?"

"There's her family, and the people who work for them." His brow furrowed. "Why?"

"I just…" Someone else _had_ been there; of that she was certain. Someone threatening. If only things were clearer. If only she could stay awake longer. Sleep was already stealing over her. She shivered, suddenly chilled again.

"C'mon, lie down," Jack said, covering her with the blanket. He wrapped an arm around her. "You'll feel better after you rest a little more."

….

He was still there when she woke up. Soft morning light peeked through the curtains. The room looked more lived in now. She saw one of their coats draped across a chair. The wardrobe door was ajar, revealing one of her dresses. Jack slept next to her, his arm still curled around her waist. Golden blonde hair fell over his eyes, and he snored softly.

Rose hadn't heard him snore before. She giggled. It immediately set off a coughing fit. She pressed her hands over her mouth in a vain attempt to muffle the sound. Her shoulders shook with the force of the coughs. Her chest burned, and tears spilled from her eyes. She gasped for breath.

Jack rubbed her back. "Don't fight it, Rose baby," he said. "Cough."

"It hurts," she choked out.

"I know, but it's gonna help."

Rose squeezed her eyes shut. Her head ached. Finally, the coughing subsided. She drew a shaky breath. Her lungs felt thick, her throat raw. She pulled the blanket up around her shoulders.

"Still cold?" he asked. He pressed his wrist to her cheek. It was warm.

"A little."

"Want some water/"

Rose nodded. "Yes, please."

Jack poured a fresh glass from the pitcher by the bed. "Here ya go, Rose Petal."

She drank it in one gulp. "Thank you."

"Want more?"

"Please."

When she'd had her fill, Rose sighed and leaned back against the pillows. She breathed slowly, hoping to avoid another coughing fit.

"How about some breakfast?" Jack suggested.

"I'm not hungry."

"You've gotta eat."

"There's no use arguing about this, is there?" Rose said, with a small smile.

He grinned. "Not really."

"Something light then? Will that do?"

"It's a start." He kissed her forehead. "I'll go see what I can find."

…

The family were gathering for breakfast when Jack came downstairs. "Good morning," Oscar called cheerfully. He waved him into the dining room. "Won't you join us?"

"I'd love to, but I was actually hoping to take something up to Rose."

"I'll have something sent up for her," Jane offered.

"Thank you," Jack said. "Would you mind if I had my breakfast upstairs too? I don't want her to have to eat alone."

"Of course," Jane said. "I'll have Fiona bring up a tray."

"Thanks." Jack smiled.

"How is she feeling?" Amelia asked.

"A little better, I think. She's awake, and I think her fever's gone down."

"Dr. Bennett will be here at 10," Jane reminded him. "He should be able to give a more thorough report."

Jack nodded. "I'll try to keep her awake."

…..

"This is quite a feast," Rose said. "I hope you don't expect me to finish it by myself."

"I'll help you."

The promised tray contained oatmeal, toast, butter, jam, a pot of tea, a plate of bacon, and eggs.

Rose stirred a spoonful of cinnamon into her oatmeal. She took a small bite. Her stomach protested before she had a chance to swallow it. She forced it down anyway. This was going to be more difficult than she'd expected.

Jack, on the other hand, ate half an egg in one bite. He chewed quickly, relishing the hot meal. "How is it?" he asked.

"Fine." She managed a smile. "I can certainly tell _you're_ hungry."

"Sorry. Pretty uncouth of me, huh?"

"Not at all." She touched his hand. "I'm glad you have so much energy."

Jack squeezed her hand. "You're gonna feel better soon, Rose. I promise."

…

"You said you'd tell me the whole story in the morning," Rose reminded him.

"I did say that."

"Well. What happened?"

"I went out to get some things," Jack explained. "You were sleeping, and I figured it wouldn't take long. When I got back, she was at our door. She told me she came to check on us."

"That was kind of her." Rose coughed. "I wonder if she checked on anyone else?" She coughed again. Jack pressed a handkerchief into her hand. "Here," he said.

"Thank you."

"I dunno if it's something she personally does a lot," he said. "She said it was routine for her group. She asked how you were, and I told her you were sick. She got concerned about that, and after she saw you…" He shrugged. "We ended up here."

Rose held the handkerchief to her lips. "Jack, don't you find that a little odd?"

"Not really. Why? Should I? They've been nice and helpful so far."

"I'm sure I'm overthinking it," she said. "There are plenty of kind people in the world. People who would take in two total strangers, no questions asked. _You_ would, for instance."

Jack laughed. "What makes you so sure?"

"You helped me. I was a stranger."

He kissed her cheek. "I'd do it again."

…

Jack glanced at the clock. "The doctor'll be here soon."

"Jack, is there…" Rose hesitated. Why did this feel so awkward? "I need a bath."

"I think we've got time."

"Is there a washroom nearby?"

He nodded. "We've got our own."

Rose breathed a sigh of relief. At least no-one would see her looking so disheveled. "Jack, would you mind helping me? I think I'm feeling better," she added, sitting up. "But I-" She doubled over in a coughing fit.

Jack rubbed her back. "Let it out, Rose baby," he said. "Cough. I know you don't want to. I know it hurts, but you've gotta."

"I hate this," she gasped.

"I know. I hate it too."

Rose sank against him, slowly catching her breath. "What is wrong with me? This isn't just a flu."

Jack held her tighter. "Let's wait for the doctor. He said he could tell us more when you woke up today." He kissed her forehead. "How about that bath now?"

…

Rose didn't hesitate when Jack helped her undress, or when he helped her into the tub. It felt natural. Saying the words might have been awkward, but maybe that was because she wasn't used to talking about her needs. Before she never had to ask for a bath. It was understood that she bathed at certain times, and everything was always prepared without her having to do anything.

Jack knelt by the tub and lathered her hair, massaging her scalp as he went. He washed her back and rinsed her hair. When she was finished, he helped her out of the tub and wrapped her in a thick towel. His eyes never strayed, nor did his hands.

Rose shivered. Her cheeks were red. "Thank you, Jack."

"You're welcome." He kissed her forehead. It was warmer now, but maybe that was from the water. "I'll get you some clothes."

He helped her into a clean nightgown. It was soft, white flannel. Rose sighed, enjoying the clean fabric on her freshly scrubbed skin. She shivered again. Her headache was back; her body was starting to hurt as well.

"Let's get you back in bed." Jack swept her up in his arms.

"I can walk," she said with a giggle.

"You're sick. That bath probably took a lot outta you."

He tucked her in bed. "Need anything?" he asked.

Rose shook her head. "I'm fine, Jack."

"I'm gonna go see if the doctor's here yet." He kissed her hand. "Be right back."

The door didn't close completely behind him. She heard his footsteps moving away. Shivering, she settled against the pillows. The chill seemed to have settled in her bones. She burrowed into the blankets, suddenly wanting nothing more than to sleep again. Her eyes were heavy. They fell closed without her realizing. Perhaps Jack was right; perhaps bathing had been more strenuous than she thought.

She didn't know if she'd fallen asleep. No time seemed to have passed, but then again, how could she tell? Jack was still gone. She turned toward the door as voices approached. She couldn't make out the words, but neither of them sounded like Jack. As they moved closer, one of them became familiar. She almost recognized it. That tone, it was-

Rose bolted up, heart racing.

….

"She's awake," Jack said as he and Edmund went upstairs. "I think she's feeling better. She wasn't as hot this morning. Her fever might've gone down."

"That's promising. I'll check her temperature."

"She hasn't eaten much," Jack went on. "But I've made sure she's had plenty of water."

They rounded the corner and reached the door. It stood open. Jack didn't remember leaving it like that, but maybe he had. He couldn't be sure. "Rose, the doctor's here," he said, stepping inside.

The bed was empty, the covers thrown back. She was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

Rose didn;t know where she was. Everything looked the same. Her head ached, and she could hardly breathe. She clutched the wall as her knees gave out, but it was too smooth and offered no helo. She stumbled forward, half-crawling. Where was Jack? She had to find him; she had to tell him what was happening.

A fresh burst of panic gripped her. What if something had already happened to him? What if Cal had found him first?

This couldn't be happening. They were supposed to be safe. He shouldn't care about them anymore. It was over; she'd never marry him. He had to understand that by now.

But perhaps that wasn't what he was after. Perhaps he _didn't_ care about that anymore. Rose remembered the cold fury in his eyes when he slapped her, the easy way he dismissed hundreds of deaths as if those lives meant nothing, and most chilling of all, the echo of the gunshots as he'd chased them down into the ship.

It was more than possible that all he wanted was revenge.

…

Jack's heart raced. "Where is she?" he said, more to himself than Edmund. It didn't make sense. Why would Rose have gotten out of bed? _Could_ she get out of bed?

"Maybe she went looking for you," Edmund suggested.

"Maybe. But why?" Jack shook his head. "Let's look for her. She shouldn't be wandering around."

"I agree."

…

Rose crawled to the back of the closet, pushing boxes out of her way as she went. Her eyes felt so heavy. She wasn't sure she was even still awake, if she'd ever been. Everything was hazy, as though she were seeing the world through a filter.

She pressed herself against the wall. Coats fell around her, and she burrowed into them, shivering.

The only light came from the space crack under the door. She heard voices, but she couldn't make out their words. Maybe they weren't real. It was a horrifying thought, but once her mind seized it, she couldn't let it go.

What if everything happening was all in her imagination? Rose coughed, muffling the sound with her hands. Tears filled her eyes. She resisted the urge to call out for Jack.

….

"Rose?" Jack called. "Petal, where are you?"

He told himself she'd just gotten confused from the fever. She'd gone to find him and hadn't been able to get back to their room. He didn't quite believe it, but he wanted to. Any other explanation was too much to handle. Wherever she was, he told himself firmly, she might be upset, but she was fine. She was safe.

She had to be.

"Any sign of her?" Edmund asked as he came out of a door on the left.

"No. Have we checked the whole floor?"

"I think so," Edmund replied.

There was a door at the end of the hall. "I haven't looked in there yet," Jack said.

"I believe that's just a closet."

"It wouldn't hurt to look," Jack said.

Rose squeezed herself into a ball beneath the coats as the door opened. She held her breath, her chest burning.

Jack peered into the darkness. It was a large, walk-in closet, and he could just make out the shape of its contents. He reached for a light switch but found nothing.

He sighed. There was no reason for Rose to be hiding in a dark closet. There was no reason for her to be hiding anywhere, or for her to have gotten out of bed. It didn't make sense. What was going on? Why hadn't she waited for him?

He was about to close the door when he heard the cough.

"Rose?"

She couldn't speak. The coughing was so intense she could barely breathe. It wracked her body, leaving her dizzy.

"Rose, are you in here?"

Jack moved through the darkness, hands out, feeling for her. "What happened? What's wrong?"

His foot found her. He dropped to his knees. "Rose Petal, what're you doing?"

He pulled the coats off her. The coughing grew even louder without the heavy cloth to absorb it. "Petal, c'mere," he said, gathering her into his arms. "What _happened_?"

Rose couldn't stop coughing long enough to answer. Heat radiated from her. Jack carried her into the hall. Her face was tear-stained, and her curls were knotted from the coats. Her cheeks were red. There was relief in her eyes, but she looked around warily.

"Let's get you back to bed," he said.

"No," she choked out. "You can't, Jack! He'll find us there!"

"It's alright, Rose. I promise," he soothed. "Trust me. Nothing's gonna happen."

"But Jack-" A cough cut her off. The small burst of energy that had fueled her flight was gone. She was even groggier now than in the dark closet. She couldn't offer any protest as Jack tucked her into bed. He wiped her eyes and fetched a fresh glass of water. "Here," he said. "Drink this."

The cool water soothed her throat. "Thank you," she whispered. "Jack, you must listen to me." She clutched his hand.

"I'm listening," he said. He sat on the edge of the bed and took her other hand. "Tell me what happened."

"I heard Cal. He was right outside the door, talking to another man. They walked away, and I knew I had to get away before they came back. I couldn't think about anything else."

"He's not here. He doesn't know where we are," Jack assured her. He caressed her hands. "And even if he did, I wouldn't let him near you. I promise, Rose."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "I'm sure. We're safe here."

Rose looked around the room, not yet convinced. In a small voice she said, "It's so hard to know what's real. Everything gets hazy, and I'm so exhausted." She closed her eyes and breathed slowly, afraid of setting off another coughing fit. "I kept waking up alone, and when I heard his voice…"

Jack kissed her forehead. "You're safe. Even if I'm not in the room, I'm still here. I'm not goin anywhere."

She opened her eyes. "What's happening, Jack?"

"You're sick, Petal. That's all. The fever's making you imagine things," he said. "But you're gonna get better soon."

Edmund stepped in. "You found her? Good. I was just checking downstairs. I thought it might be time to alert the rest of the house."

"No need," Jack replied. "She's back in bed where she belongs."

"You had us worried, Miss," Edmund said. "Are you alright?"

"I suppose so," Rose answered.

"You're quite flushed. Let's begin by checking your temperature," Edmund said. He removed a thermometer from his bag. "Here you go. Under your tongue."

He frowned at the result. "102. Much too high. We'll have to do something about that." He spoke in a soothing, even tone.

"What's wrong with me?" Rose asked, half-afraid to hear the answer.

Edmund glanced at Jack. "Just a touch of pneumonia. That's all. You'll be up and about again in no time."

"That sounds serious. I-" Rose pressed a hand to her chest as coughs wracked her body.

Jack rubbed her back. "Get it out, Rose," he said. He wiped the tears from her eyes. "You're gonna get better."

…..

Jack left the door ajar as he went into the hall. Rose was sound asleep, but he still looked back at her. "Well?" he said, turning to Edmund. "Were you just lying to make her feel better?"

"No, I wasn't."

Jack's heart lifted. "She'll really be alright soon?"

"I believe so. As long as she stays in bed and rests. I'm going to leave a few medicines for her," Edmund said. "We've caught it early, and she's young, so I don't see any reason too be too alarmed just yet. She should be able to fight this off."

"But?"

"But things could still change," Edmund cautioned. "We'll have to keep a close eye on her. Someone needs to make sure she doesn't go running around and hiding in closets again. Perhaps I should speak to Jane about finding a nurse."

"No," Jack said firmly. "I can take care of her."

"With a fever like this she's likely to have more of these waking dreams, hallucinations," Edmund explained. "She can't help it, but it might become overwhelming."

"I understand."

"Not just for her," Edmund continued. "But for you as well."

"It won't."

…..

The sun streamed through the window when Rose opened her eyes. She stretched her arms above her head and yawned. They were back in their little room. Or had they ever left? She looked over and saw Jack, eyes half-closed. Grinning lazily.

"What happened?" she asked, bewildered. She took a deep breath. No coughing. No pain.

"We slept late," he said.

"No, I meant…Have we been somewhere else?"

"No." He sat up. "Why do you ask?"

Rose laughed. "It must have been a dream. Oh, but it was so real Jack. I was sick, and…" She shrugged. "It doesn't matter." She leaned over and kissed him. "How did you sleep, cheri?"

"Perfectly."

Rose smiled again. "So did I."

She wrapped an arm around his neck, kissing him again, more deeply this time. "We have absolutely nothing to do today," she murmured.

"Yeah, I know. It's gonna be boring." He grinned mischievously. "Just the two of us here in bed."

"Whatever will we do?"

He pulled her onto his lap. "We'll think of somethin."

….

His kisses set her on fire. His hands were all over her; somehow, they were everywhere at once. Rose clung to him, wrapping her legs around his hips. "Jack," she sighed. "Don't stop touching me."

"I won't," he promised. She kissed him greedily. His arousal pressed against her. He shifted, sending a jolt of pleasure through her. "How could I?" he whispered. "I want you so much, Rose."

"Do you?" Rose looked into his eyes. They were so blue, but dark with desire. They reminded her of the sea.

"Of course I do."

"Show me?" she whispered. "Make love to me again."

Jack didn't hesitate.

…

Rose tossed and turned, sighing as she slept. Jack watched, his concern growing each time she moved. Her cheeks were still flushed, and her cheek was warm. Edmund had warned that the fever might take a while to break, but that hadn't stopped Jack from hoping otherwise.

"Jack," she murmured.

"I'm here." He squeezed her hand.

Rose moaned softly. "Jack. Please…."

He gave her a light shake. "Wake up, Petal. It's just a dream."

Her head rolled away. "Jack!" she gasped. The sudden intake of breath triggered a cough. She sputtered, choking, and was ripped back into consciousness.

Jack eased her into a sitting position. He held a handkerchief to her lips. "Cough," he instructed. "And spit."

When Rose was finally able to breath again, she looked around. Her brow furrowed. "It wasn't real?"

"What wasn't?"

"We were back in our room…" she trailed off.

"You were dreaming, Rose. It sounded like a nightmare," he said.

"No," she replied, disappointed. "It was a good once."

Jack sat next to her. He wrapped his arms around her. "What was it about?"

"It was about us. We were back in our old room, and we were…" Her cheeks reddened even more. "Enjoying ourselves."

"So all that sighing and calling my name was cause you were happy." Jack grinned and kissed her temple. "And I thought you were having a nightmare."

"Jack, it felt so real." She lay against him, comforted by his strong, warm body. "They're all like that. I can't seem to stop dreaming. I keep imagining things," she whispered. "And I can't always tell what's real and what isn't."

There. She'd said it out loud. Rose looked up at him. "Do you think I'm crazy, Jack?"

"No," he said firmly, shaking his head. "I don''t." He kissed her forehead. "It's the fever. It's making you see things."

"And hear them?"

"The doctor said it can make you hallucinate," he replied. "You're awake, but you're still dreaming."

"How do I know this isn't a dream?" Rose hugged him tighter. "How do I know you won't disappear?"

"I don't know if I can prove to you that it's not," Jack said slowly. "I wish I could, Petal. You're just gonna have to trust me."

"I trust you."

He kissed the tip of her nose. "I won't let anything happen to you. There's nothing to be afraid of."

"I truly believed Cal was here."

"And you hid," he said.

Rose nodded. "I panicked. I don't know how to explain it. I was certain I heard him, and you were gone, and I…." She sighed. "It was foolish of me to run away like that. I should have known better, but I couldn't help it."

"It's not you fault, Rose. You're sick." Jack brushed a curl away from her face. "You didn't know it wasn't real. What if it had been? I'd want you to get as far away from him as you could,"

"How would he find us?"

He shrugged. "Who knows with a guy like that? It doesn't matter. What matters is, we're safe together, and you're gonna get better soon."

Rose gazed at him with wide, searching eyes. "But Jack, what if I don't? I'm so tired. I can hardly breathe. I'm so cold and yet so hot. When I cough it feels like I'm being torn apart."

Jack pushed down his own fears. This wasn't the time for them; this wasn't about him. "I know it doesn't feel like it now, but you will get better, Rose. Trust me." He cradled her face with one hand. "We didn't survive that night just to lose each other now."

"You're always so hopeful. So certain things will turn out somehow. How do you do it?"

"It's just one of my many gifts." He offered her a bright grin.

Rose pressed her hand over his. "I love you, Jack," she whispered.

Jack couldn't help remembering the first time she said it. He almost shuddered at the sensation of unbearable cold piercing his body. He hadn't said it back. It was a choice made out of fear, fear that if if shared his feelings—-the deepest, truest feelings he had ever known-it would not merely be a declaration of love, but rather, a last gasp of resignation. It would mean they were both going to die.

But things were different now, and he couldn't refuse to answer. He couldn't deny her this comfort. Jack kissed her hand. "I love you too, Rose. So much."

…..

Dinner was long over by the time Jack went in search of food. He crept down the stairs and into the kitchen. The light was already on, and much to his surprise, Jane was sitting at the small table, a mug in front of her. She glanced up when he came in. "Well, there you are. I was hoping you'd come down and eat eventually."

"I didn't want to leave Rose."

"Yes, I heard what happened this morning. Is she alright?"

He sat down across from her. "Yeah, she's fine. She's asleep now."

"It must have been upsetting," she said.

"It was."

"She was having a nightmare?" Jane asked. "That's what caused it?"

His eyes were drawn. "The fever's been making her dream so vividly. She can't always tell when she's awake. She thought she wasn't safe."

"Was she frightened of anything specific?" She spoke lightly, but there was hidden meaning in the question. Jack met her eyes. Did she know more than she'd let on? Had she known who Rose was all along? When she spoke again her tone was gentler. "Jack, I don't believe you're a liar, but I'm also sure there's more to your story than you've told me. Now, what is it?"


	9. Chapter 9

The truth wasn't an option, but then again, neither was lying. Jack felt the seconds ticking by. What should he say? How could he explain what happened to them without Rose's mother being alerted as to their whereabouts? Jane wasn't likely to move in the same circles as Ruth or Cal, but Jack could tell she was the sort of person who would insist they contact Ruth immediately. It was only natural, he supposed. _She'd_ want to know what had become of her own child.

But he couldn't let that happen.

"We ran away," he said.

She nodded. "I see. Why? From what, exactly?"

"My family." Jack hadn't known he was going to say it, but suddenly, it made perfect sense. Why not just switch things around a little?

…..

Jane was silent while he talked, her expression calm but still betraying nothing. When he finished she said, "And what were you planning to do next?"

"We hadn't actually gotten that far," Jack answered. "We lost pretty much everything in the sinking. I managed to hold on to a little money; somehow it stayed in my pocket through everything, but I was trying not to spend it. I was hoping it would help us start over. I found a job, but it didn't pay very much. I thought if we tried, we could save enough money to leave New York."

Jane's eyes were thoughtful. "Where do you want to go?"

"Out West," he said without hesitation. "California."

She nodded. "A popular choice these days. There are many opportunities out there. I hate to tell you this, Jack, but you'll need more money than you could ever save out of a factory worker's weekly pay if you hope to truly start over there."

Jack wasn't convinced she was right. He knew exactly how little he could live on, but then again, there was Rose to consider. Could he ask her to go without meals and shelter? To live with the kind of uncertainty he'd faced every day for years? No, he couldn't; it was out of the question, and he knew that. He just wanted to believe he could manage on his own.

"I know," he said, after a pause. "I thought maybe I could make it work, but…" He sighed. "With Rose sick, it's impossible. I can't leave her. But I can repay you a little," he added. "I-"

She held up a hand, silencing him. "That won't be necessary. I want to help, and that's what I'll do."

"I can't contact my family. They've cut me off completely after this, and Rose doesn't have anyone."

"Are you absolutely sure you can't at least let them know you're alright?" she said. "They must be worried about you. I realise they don't approve of your marriage, but they're still your family. They must want to know you're safe."

Jack shook his head. "No. At least, not yet. I don't trust them. They haven't always been the most scrupulous people," he explained. "I don't know everything, but my father's side of the family has been involved in a few dealings that were less than legitimate."

"I understand. I won't tell anyone about this, but Jack, you can't spend the rest of your life running away," Jane cautioned. "Eventually, no matter how far you go, whatever you're trying to escape will catch up with you."

…..

Jack's arms are strong and solid around her. Rose leane back against him with a contented sigh. He rested his chin on her shoulder. "It's beautiful tonight, isn't it?"

She nodded. The sky was clear, and thousands of stars twinkled overhead. "I'm glad we came out to see it."

"Me too." He kissed her cheek.

Rose smiled. "Despite the cold?"

"How can I be cold with you in my arms?"

She laughed. "Jack, I don't think it works that way."

He held her tighter. "Sure it does."

She tilted her head back and caught his lips. "It's too bad we can't stay out here all night."

"You wanna sleep under the stars?"

"Eventually we'd sleep," she replied coyly.

Jack grinned. "Miss, are you implying something improper would occur?"

"Not at all. I see nothing improper about it."

He kissed her. "Me neither."

…..

Rose didn't know how they made it from the deck to her bed, but suddenly, there they were. She held him close, kissing him greedily as they fumbled with their clothes. His hands trembled as he removed the last layer, revealing her creamy, smooth skin.

Jack gazed down at her, wonder and desire in his blue eyes. "Rose," he whispered. "My flower girl."

She took his hand and kissed his palm. "Don't be afraid to touch me, Jack."

…..

Rose peered into the dimly lit room. What happened? Where was she? The ache of desire lingered, joined now by new pains throughout her body. Her muscles cried out from fever and fatigue.

Of course. It all came back to her. None of it was real; she wasn't back on the ship with Jack. Instead she was ill and confined to bed.

She felt a hand on her arm. "Jack?" she whispered. Her voice cracked. "Is that you?"

Jack mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep. She squeezed his hand and slipped from the bed.

The wooden floor was cold on her bare feet, but she didn't care. Rose crossed the room and opened the curtains, letting in the blue dawn. Their room looked out over a small garden. A cherry tree bloomed just outside the window. She took a deep breath, briefly forgetting what would happen

The coughs burned through her. Rose clutched her chest in a vain attempt to stifle it.

"What're you doing?" Jack said, taking her in his arms. "You should be in bed."

"I wanted to-" She coughed again.

"C'mon," he said, gently steering her back to the bed. "Whatever it is, I'll get it for you."

"I just wanted to get up for a few minutes." She took a sip from the glass he offered. "I feel as though I've been in this bed for weeks."

"I know. But you're gonna get better soon."

"When Jack?" Rose shook with the force of her coughs. "How much longer will it take?"

He rubbed her back. "I don't know, Petal. I wish I could tell you."

"I know you do, Jack." She smiled wanly. "You've been so good to me through all of this. I've been a very trying patient."

He grinned. "Only when you run off without telling me."

"I'm sorry for doing that."

"Don't be, Rose. I'm glad you did it."

Rose gave him a puzzled look. "You are? Why?"

"I want to know you'll run if you ever need to," he replied. "Don't hesitate if you ever feel unsafe."

She laughed lightly. "Clearly, I will."

Jack kissed her hand. "Feeling any better?"

"I don't know. I feel so worn out. My body aches."

Jack wished he could do something. There had to be more he could do for her. But what? "Do you need anything?"

"Actually, yes, Jack. I'd like a bath."

…..

"Is it too hot?"

Rose shook her head. She leaned back against the tub. "No, it's perfect."

"You sure?"

She smiled. "Yes, Jack. I'm sure."

"I'm being a little overprotective, aren't I?"

"I'd say concerned, rather," she replied. "I don't mind. In fact, I kind of like it."

"You _like_ havin me hover over you?"

Rose looked up into his eyes. "I like being taken care of by you."

Jack's heart fluttered. "I like taking care of you."

…..

Jack slowly massaged her scalp as he worked the shampoo into her curls. Rose sighed, the aches in her body finally subsiding. Her chest itched, a sure sign that a coughing fit was on its way. She tightened her jaw, but it was no use. She sputtered as it welled up in her throat.

"Don't fight it, Rose," he said. "You gotta cough."

"I hate this," she whimpered.

"I know you do, Petal. I hate it too." Jack rubbed her back with a washcloth. "But it's not gonna last forever."

Rose drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them. "Why did this happen? Why couldn't we just start out life together?"

"We have," he said. "This is part of it. Things are gonna be bad sometimes, but we'll get through it. Trust me."

"I trust you."

…..

"Here we go." Jack wrapped the towel around her. It was thick and fluffy and more than large enough to fit around her easily. Rose shivered. He hugged her from behind. "Let's get you back in bed." He kissed her cheek. It felt almost normal, but he didn't want to get his hopes up just yet.

"Jack, I thought you'd never try to get me into bed." Rose laughed, glancing at him over her shoulder.

He returned her smile. "Just wait until you're feeling better, Petal."

"Is that a promise?"

"That's a promise."

Jack helped her into a clean nightgown. He carefully brushed her hair, his nimble fingers easily untangling her curls. "Your hair's still damp," he said. "I don't think you should sleep on it like this."

"What choice do I have?"

"We can try something." He took a fresh towel and wrapped her hair in it. "This should work."

"It's bad for your hair," she said wearily.

Jack grinned. "There's my girl," he said. He gave her a squeeze. "We'll just do it this once, and I'll take it down as soon as your hair's dry."

"Alright."

All of the bath's positive effects had already faded. A chill settled over her, and Rose was even more exhausted than before. She yawned, triggering a coughing fit. She doubled over, struggling for breath.

He rubbed her back. "Here," he said, bringing a glass to her lips. "Try drinking this."

Rose's head ached once it finally ended. Jack helped her into bed. "What do you need?" he asked, tucking the blankets around her.

"Will you hold me, please? Is that alright?"

"Course it is." He kissed her forehead. "I'll always hold you, Rose."

…

Her breathing was labored, but she slept peacefully. Jack held her close, both arms wrapped around her. The towel had been discarded, and her curls flowed across the pillow, clean and shining.

She felt so small. It was the first time Jack had thought of her that way. Her hands were smaller than his, and he had to admit she was more delicate overall, but they'd always seemed roughly the same size, despite their height difference. Her energy and strength made up for whatever she lacked in size.

But that was gone, stolen by her illness. She resembled a porcelain doll now more than ever.

There were dark circles under her eyes; her cheeks were rosy not with health but with fever. Jack couldn't be sure, but she seemed to have already lost weight.

His urge to protect her was stronger than ever, but this wasn't something he could think their way through. He couldn't talk the illness out of her body. He couldn't fight it. All he could do was wait and do his best to take care of her. Not even Cal, with all his money could do any more than that now.

…

Ruth was surprised when the trio of women appeared at her hotel room door. She assumed the employees would keep out reporters and the curious, but as she looked closer, she realized they were too well-dressed and groomed to belong to either group. They were solidly middle class, perhaps even upper middle class. Perfectly respectable, of course, though still worlds away from her own social circle. She had no idea what they wanted with her, unless they were an Aid Group seeking donations.

"Yes?" Ruth said in a gracious, yet cool tone.

"Good afternoon. I'm sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Dewitt-Bukator," Jane said. "We're here as representatives of the New York chapter of the Ladies' Temperance Union. You've been a generous patron to our Philadelphia chapter, and we thought it would be only proper that we find out if there's anything we can do for you in light of the recent tragedy."

Ruth was speechless. Were these charity workers here to dispense aid to _her_? Was her situation already so well-known that even lady do-gooders were aware of it? How could that have happened so quickly? No-one knew, at least, no-one who would tell. Her late husband's creditors had no reason to spread the story, and if they had, it would likely have made the papers. There was Rose-But she was gone, Ruth reminded herself. Humiliation and grief fought for control of her. Her eyes dimmed, and a lump filled her throat.

"Oh, you poor dear," Jane said, shaking her head. "You've endured a terrible ordeal."

"Yes," Ruth agreed. "Indeed I have."

…

"You must have been so afraid," Mildred said. "I can't imagine what it was like."

"Neither can I," Gertrude added.

"It was harrowing." Ruth took a sip of her tea, stretching the silence for maximum dramatic effect. "But that wasn't the worst part."

She knew using the tragedy as fodder for stories was wrong; she knew reveling in the sympathy and attention of these women was equally wrong, and still, she did it anyway. She told herself that after everything that had happened she deserved a little sympathy. It was only fair. Her daughter was gone. She'd lost everything. Wasn't she entitled to care and understanding, even if it came from strangers?

All of her friends were either back in Philadelphia or dealing with the sinking. Talking to those who survived alongside her had proven useless. They all veered between looking for ways to help the less fortunate survivors and comparing losses. As if their losses could ever compare to hers. As if _she_ wasn't now one of the less fortunate.

But of course, they didn't know that yet.

"It's perfectly alright if you'd rather not talk about it," Jane said kindly. "The experience is still so fresh in your mind. Discussing it might only make it worse."

Ruth dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. Her tears were as genuine as her love of the spotlight. It _had_ been a harrowing ordeal. She'd sat in a boat for hours, not knowing if she would live or die, with nothing but silence and bitter cold as she wondered if anyone was coming for them, or if they would be left in the middle of the ocean forever.

Rose was all she'd thought of while the ship finally went down. Had she managed to get on a boat? Was she safe? Would she ever see her again once this horrible night finally ended?

As the _Titanic_ plunged into the icy water, Ruth held fast to the hope that Rose wasn't still aboard. She didn't care if Jack was with her, as long as she was safe. She'd deal with that later. It was nothing really; all that mattered was that Rose was still alive

"I lost my daughter," Ruth said. The words nearly stuck in her throat. It was the first time she'd said it aloud. Molly had tried to bring it up, and she had rebuffed her efforts. Things were bad enough already.

"What happened?" Mildred asked gently.

"She may not wish to discuss it," Jane reminded her.

"No, it's alright," Ruth said. "We were waiting for a boat, but when our turn came she insisted she had to go back to the cabin." It wasn't a complete lie. Rose _had_ refused to get on the boat when her turn came. "I haven't seen her since." She looked down at her hands. "There was nothing I could do."

"She might be among the other survivors," Jane said encouragingly. "I've been told they're still gathering names."

"I looked for her aboard the _Carpathia_. I didn't find her."

"Did you look everywhere?" Gertrude asked. "I'm of the understanding that things were rather disorganized at first. Perhaps she wasn't with the other First Class passengers."

"Her fiance looked for her among the others," Ruth answered. "He found no sign of her."

But had he really looked? After everything that happened, could she trust him to care what became of Rose? If they somehow managed to find her alive, would there still be an engagement? Ruth wasn't sure she'd blame him if he called it off. Rose had behaved outrageously, and though she was young and naive, Rose understood the precariousness of their situation. She understood the potential consequences of her actions. And yet, she'd pulled their last hope of security down and tossed it aside as if it meant nothing. How could she do it? What could be so compelling about that shabby young man that she was willing to give up everything?

Ruth squeezed her eyes closed against the tears threatening to fall. In that moment, she would have forgiven everything if it meant having Rose back.

…..

"Just one more spoonful, and you can go back to sleep," Jack promised.

Rose's nose wrinkled as she swallowed the foul-tasting liquid. "Do you think it's helping?"

"Yeah, I do." He smoothed back her curls. "Just a little longer, Rose Petal. Everything's gonna be fine."


	10. Chapter 10

"I'm still worried about that fever," Dr. Bennett said. "It might return."

"How likely is that?" Rose asked.

"It's a definite possibility. I'd rather not speculate about likelihoods at this point. I can tell you that the treatment appears to be working. I have every confidence you'll make a full recovery."

"But?" Rose added.

"But you're not quite there yet," he said. "I would caution against over exerting yourself. The coming weeks are critical and will determine how quickly you recover. Remember, just because you're feeling better, that doesn't mean you can go running about." He turned to Jack. "But I trust you'll make sure that doesn't happen."

"Of course," Jack replied. He smoothed back her curls. "I'll make sure she's taken care of."

Edmund smiled. "Well then I'd say that concludes our visit."

…..

Jack gently pressed his hand to Rose's cheek. Cool Just as it had been since her fever broke the previous week. Still he couldn't stop himself from checking. She smiled, leaning into his touch. "It hasn't returned, Jack."

He kissed her forehead. "Gotta be sure."

Her chest still hurt, and the coughing persisted, but her head was much clearer now that the fever was gone. She no longe felt as though she were slipping between dreams and reality. Her sleep was more restful, and her appetite had returned slightly, though she still only managed to eat a small portion of each meal.

Jack smiled. "I love you, ya know."

Rose took his hand and pulled him down next to her. "Sit with me, please?"

He wrapped his arm around her. "I'd love to."

Rose lay her head on his shoulder. "What will we do when this is finally over?"

"We'll travel."

"To where?"

"Anywhere you want," he said.

"I want to see the pier," she said. "But there's so much between here and there. A whole country. I'd like to see as much of it as we can."

"We can do that."

"I'm sure you've already seen everything worthwhile," she said. "So you'll have to indulge me."

"No, I haven't." Jack kissed the top of her head. "And even if I had, seeing it with you will be different, and that makes me the luckiest guy in the world."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, it is. 'Cause I get to show it to you," he said, gazing down into her eyes.

Warmth flowed through her. Rose snuggled closer to him. "What's your favorite part?" she asked. "The best place you've been?"

Jack thought for a moment. "Dawn. Doesn't matter where. Just waking up and seeing the sun rise. Everything's cool and quiet. It feels like I'm the only person alive, but it's alright. It's not lonely; it's peaceful. My mind clears, and I can see all the drawings I wanna do, and I just feel so...connected." He shook his head. "I can't really explain it. It sounds crazy."

"No, Jack, it doesn't. It sounds lovely."

He rested his cheek against her curls. "You really think so?"

Rose nodded. "I want to experience it with you, Jack. I want to know how it feels for myself."

"You will," he promised. "As soon as you're well, we'll go."

…

"I miss you," Rose said.

"I'm right here.. You don't have to worry about me going anywhere." Jack tightened his embrace. "I thought you were asleep, Petal."

"I was." She looked up at him. "I know I don't. I trust you." She hugged him with one arm. "That's not what I meant."

Her meaning was clear. Jack breathed in the clean, flowery scent of her hair and let his breath out slowly. "I miss you too."

"Do you?"

"Of course I do. Rose, I want to kiss you so badly, and I can't," he said.

"You could," she said softly.

"I shouldn't."

"I'm not as delicate as I look, Jack." She touched his face. "You should know that better than anyone."

He pressed his hand over hers. "I know."

"But you won't kiss me."

Jack was torn. How could he tell her no? He ached for her, for the warmth of her body against his, skin against skin, her curves in his hands, her full lips pressed to his, parting, sweet and eager. But he couldn't have that. _They_ couldn't have that. Not yet.

So he settled for lightly brushing his lips across hers. "Will that be enough for now?" he whispered.

Rose gave a small smile. "I suppose it will have to."

…..

Jack waited until he was sure she was deeply asleep before tiptoeing out of their room. He stretched his arms above his head and rolled his shoulders. He'd lost track of the time, but judging from the rumbling in his stomach, it was at least early afternoon.

The house was quiet as he made his way downstairs and into the kitchen. Sofia glanced up from the pie crust she was rolling. "I suppose you'll be wanting some lunch?" She spoke matter-of-factly but not harshly.

"Would it be too much trouble if I threw together a sandwich?" Jack asked.

She was already on her feet. Brushing her hands on her apron, she said, "I saved something for you. Just have a seat at the table."

Jack smiled. "Thanks."

"I didn't want you messing about in my kitchen again. That's all. The last time you were in here you put everything back in the wrong place." She set a still warm plate of food before him. "I heard your wife's starting to improve."

He nodded. "It looks that way. Her fever's staying down, and if that lasts she'll be on her way. At least, I hope so. Dr. Bennett seems pretty optimistic."

"He's good. I saw him last year when I had the flu." She deposited half a loaf of bread and a dish of butter next to his plate.

Jack's blue eyes sparkled; he flashed her a grin. "You remembered I like bread and butter."

"Everyone likes bread and butter." But she smiled as she said it. Keeping her gaze on her pie crust, she said, "I heard about what you told the Missus."

"Yeah?"

"And that she actually believed you." Sofia allowed herself a chuckle. "Well, she's heard a lot of stories over the years. I suppose yours isn't any more outlandish than the others."

"Why shouldn't she believe me? I told the truth."

"Let's not pretend with each other. We're the same." Her eyes met his. "You're no more an upper class swell than I am, and anyone who looked twice at you could see that."

"What do you mean?" Jack asked, startled. Was it that obvious? Did Jane not believe him after all? She was still letting them stay there, so surely she did, but what if that was only because of Rose's illness? Did she already know who Rose really was? 

"You know what I mean," Sofia said. The way you talk. The way you move. Your hands. That golden tan. You've done real work. You're not some runaway heir who's been pampered all his life."

Jack tore off a piece of bread and chewed thoughtfully, letting her words sink in. "Are you going to tell her?"

"No."

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because we're the same," she said. "Your wife, she's the runaway, isn't she?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"I figured. And I figure you've got a good reason for trying to keep that secret," she said.

"I do. Thank you."

…

Jack was finishing up when Amelia came in. "There you are," she said brightly. "No-one's seen you all day."

"I've been with Rose."

"I heard she was improving."

He smiled, nodding. "She is."

"Well, we're all glad to hear it," Amelia said. "I'd love to meet her when she's strong enough for company."

"I'm sure she'd like that."

"I just snuck back here for a cup of tea," Amelia confided. "Mother's hosting her group in the sitting room, and they're all dears, but I'm simply not up for it today."

Jack laughed. "I won't tell."

"They're planning to have one of their sponsors to tea soon," she added. "But the honor of having her for dinner first goes to Mother. She's the president, you know."

"Yes, I know. It sounds very impressive."

"It is. I don't mean to sound so mocking," she said. "They do a great deal of good work, and most of them really do care about the causes, especially Mother. Well, you've seen that firsthand."

"She's been very generous," Jack agreed. "I don't know how to thank her or any of you."

Amelia waved away his words. "It's fine. Really. What's the point of having more than you need if you don't share it?"

"I don't think I've ever met anyone who looked at it that way. No, actually, there've been a coupla people I've known who might agree." He thought of Molly. She'd offered her son's tuxedo without any thought of repayment. She'd offered advice and support, ensuring he didn't make a fool of himself. She'd never said so, but she suspected she would support his relationship with Rose. He wondered if he should try contacting her. Was there a way she could let Ruth kow Rose was safe without giving away their secret?

"Is that why you left?"

Jack didn't betray his surprise. "You know about that?"

"I overheard my parents discussing it. This house looks big, but it's tiny when secrets are involved," Amelia explained. "I apologize if that was too forward. I understand if you'd rather not talk about it."

"No, I don't mind. That's part of it. There were a lot of reasons to leave," he replied. "Rose was the most important one, though."

"You truly love her."

"I do. I didn't know I could love someone like this until I met her."

"I can tell," she said. "When you talk about her, your eyes light up, and you smile." She laughed. "Besotted is a good word for how you look."

Jack shrugged good-naturedly.. "What can I say?" He stood up. "I should go check on her. I've been down here for a while."

"I'll see you at dinner then."

He nodded. "See you at dinner."

….

Rose was still asleep. Jack kissed her forehead and tucked the covers tighter around her. She was still cool, with no sign of a fever. So far, so good.

…

"Jack?" Rose was propped up in bed, surrounded by pillows. Jack lay next to her, leaning on his elbow. His free arm was draped across her.

"Do you need something, Rose? Are you-"

"I'm fine," she assured him.

"You sure?"

"Yes, Jack." Rose smiled and squeezed his hand. "Did you say there was a library downstairs?"

"Want me to go get you a book?"

"Would you, please?" she asked. "I need to do something besides sleep and look at the walls."

He grinned. "You can always look at me"

Rose pressed her hand to his cheek. "You are indeed beautiful, Jack, but I'm afraid gazing upon your enticing visage will only frustrate me."

Desire stirred within him. "Oh yeah?"

She looked into his blue eyes. "I don't think now is the proper time to discuss it." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "It would only...upset both of us."

Jack slowly let out a breath. "You're right. There'll be plenty of time when you're better." He kissed her forehead. "I'll get you a book."

"Thank you."

"Do you want anything in particular?" he asked.

Rose shook her head. "I just want something to read."

"Okay. I'll be right back."

The door clicked shut behind him, and Jack sank against the wall. He closed his eyes and sighed. His body hummed with arousal. What he wouldn't have given to take Rose in his arms and kiss her, _really_ kiss her, slow and deep. To let his hands explore the smooth curves of her body, his calloused fingers gently caressing her creamy skin.

He jerked his eyes open. No, he couldn't think that way. He couldn't let his mind fill with fantasies that couldn't be. When Rose recovered, then he could let himself imagine anything he liked. He could do more than imagine.

Jack raked his fingers through his hair. He had a book to find.

…..

"I'm so pleased you were able to join us tonight," Jane said. "It's an honor to have you here."

Ruth smiled graciously. "How could I refuse such a thoughtful invitation?"

How could she refuse _any_ invitation at a time like this? With no way of predicting how much longer Cal's protection would last, she had to court as many potential allies as possible. These women were in the business of providing aid to respectable gentlewomen who had fallen on difficult times, usually widows like herself, and if anyone could help her while remaining discreet, it was them.

Jane's eyes were warm. "How have you been managing, if I may ask?"

Ruth assumed an air of dignified sorrow. "I'm getting along as well as I can, under the circumstances. Fortunately, I've had good friends whom I can turn to."

"I hope you'll consider me a friend, despite how short our acquaintance has been."

"Yes, I shall. Thank you."

To an outside observer, Ruth's pain might have appeared contrived, an act put on to win sympathy, but in fact it was quite genuine. Sharing the truth depth of her grief was out of the question; no-one could be trusted with that. It was bad enough that Brown woman saw her crying.

Molly tried to offer support, but Ruth rebuffed her efforts. How dare she presume to understand anything about the way she felt, about her heartbreak. She'd lost her only child, and to make matters worse, Rose had willingly run back into danger, heedless of her own safety. And all for _him_. That penniless boy who offered nothing but charm and smiles. What would Rose possibly hope to do with those?

Rose believed she loved him. No doubt he'd told her he felt the same way, and perhaps, he did. Ruth was willing to concede Rose's appeal to a man like Jack. She was beautiful, refined, educated, well-traveled-everything he would never be. Everything he would never find in a woman.

But he couldn't provide for her. He hardly managed to provide for himself. And if he had any sense, he'd know that. He would have left her alone, let her forget him and settle into the life she was meant for all along. Instead he insisted on pursuing her, and now look where she was.

Ruth folded her hands in her lap, a pensive look on her face.

"I apologize if my question brought up painful memories," Jane said gently.

"It's quite alright. This is a difficult process, but I'm already familiar with it," Ruth said."I lost my husband only two years ago."

"Yes, that's right." Jane shook her head. "This must be so awful for you. I can hardly -one should have to endure so much loss."

"No, they shouldn't," Ruth agreed. "Still, I shall find a way to carry on somehow."

Somehow indeed. Nothing had been mentioned about the bill for her hotel suite, but it was only a matter of time before the bill arrived, and then what? She was absolutely alone, without even a distant cousin or aunt to ask for help.

There were footsteps in the hall, and then Jane called, "Jack, why don't you come meet our guest?"

Ruth turned. Her heart dropped from her chest. It couldn't be. What was _he_ doing alive? And here, of all places? Surely he would have perished along with the other men of his class. And yet, there was no denying Jack stood before her.

Jack's blood ran cold. Why was she there? It couldn't be a coincidence could it? That Ruth just happened to end up in the same house as the two of them?

His shoulders tightened. Did that mean Cal wasn't far off? He glanced toward the stairs, wishing he hadn't left Rose alone.

"Jack Dawson, this is Mrs. Ruth Dewitt-Bukator," Jane said. "She's one of the sponsors of my organization." To Ruth she added, "Jack and his wife also survived the tragedy, and they've been staying with us."

Ruth's gaze met his. "Really? How interesting."

AN: Thanks for your patience! I've been overwhelmed by everything going on in the world, and this chapter took so much longer than I expected. I hope everyone is staying safe!


	11. Chapter 11

Jack and Ruth stared at one another, both waiting for the other to make a move. Ruth hid her shock beneath a polite smile. Her jaw twitched slightly, but Jane didn't notice. Jack's gaze didn't waver; his blue eyes remained steadily fixed on hers, which angered her even more. How dare he behave so brazenly! As if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth! The lying, disgusting steerage rat. He should've remained below deck with his own kind, where he belonged. He should have been grateful for the chance to mingle with his betters and left it at that, but no, he'd refused to accept his place. He'd pursued Rose, seduced her, destroyed her future, and for what? A chance at a fortune that no longer existed?

Ruth nearly laughed. Well, if that's what he was after, he was in for a painful awakening.

"His wife has been ill," Jane explained. "So, unfortunately, she won't be joining us this evening." To Jack, she said, "Will you be having dinner upstairs?"

"No, I'll eat with the rest of you," he answered. It was an instinctive decision. Common sense said no-one could bother Rose while the house was full of people, and it was better not to turn his back on Ruth. He doubted she was capable of the same level of violence and deviousness as Cal, but his gut said not to underestimate her.

"That's such a shame about your wife's illness," Ruth said. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather be attending to her?"

"She needs to rest," Jack said. "And having me around can keep her awake."

"Yes, I'm sure it does."

Her meaning wasn't lost on him. Jack smiled cheerfully, giving them each a nod. "If you'll excuse me, I promised to bring her a book."

"Yes, of course," Jane said.

"Yes, we wouldn't want to keep you from your wife." Ruth's tone was polite, but Jack saw the coldness in her eyes.

"I'll be back down soon," he said.

…

"There you are." Rose smiled. "I was beginning to wonder if something happened."

"I just had a little trouble choosing a book," he said. He kissed her cheek. "Is this one alright?"

" _Sense and Sensibility_. I love this one." She pulled him closer. "Thank you," she said, caressing his cheek. "You've been so good to me, Jack."

Jack sat on the edge of the bed and put his arm around her. She settled against him, her head on his shoulder. "Of course I'm good to you," he said. "I love you."

"I know you do."

"Do you, Petal?" he said. He pressed his lips to her forehead. "You know I'd never hurt you, right?"

"Yes, Jack, certainly I know that." She gave him a curious look. "What makes you ask?"

"It's nothing," he assured her. "I wanted to remind you. That's all."

Rose wasn't convinced. The look in his eyes gave her pause. His usual ease was gone, replaced by a thinly concealed agitation. "Jack, you'd tell me if something happened," she said. "You wouldn't try to keep it from me."

Jack hesitated. How could he reassure her without lying? But then again, how could he tell her that her mother was downstairs, and that she knew where they were staying? She'd never stay in bed if he told her. She'd on her feet and packing their things before he could even finish getting the words out. _That_ certainly wasn't an option.

"Rose, do you trust me?" he said.

"I trust you." She looked up at him imploringly. "Jack, if something's wrong, just tell me. I can handle it."

"I know you can." He squeezed her hand. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"You're right," he said. "Something's wrong. But I need to wait a little longer before I tell you about it. I need to find out more so we can figure out what to do. Can you keep trusting me while I do that?"

"Yes," Rose said without hesitation.

"You sure? You'll stay in bed and rest until I come back up?" He kissed her forehead. "I don't want you getting sicker because of this."

"I won't," she said. "I trust you, Jack. If you say you'll tell me later, I believe you."

Jack wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly. He had no idea what was going to happen next, or what they'd do if they had to hide, but he knew they'd get through it. If he had to spend Cal's money-even if he had to use every last cent-he'd do it, as long as it kept them safely together.

…

Ruth, meanwhile, was trying to get information as discreetly as possible. "How long have they been staying with you?" she asked.

"Not long," Jane said. "Just a few weeks."

"It's very generous of you to open your home like that."

"Thank you. I try to help where I can," Jane said.

"Yes, I can see that. It's rather remarkable. What exactly is his wife suffering from?" Ruth said. "I hope it isn't anything too serious."

"She came down with pneumonia, most likely as a result of spending so much time in the freezing water." Jane shook her head. "It's such a disgrace. I've been hearing reports that after they were rescued, the surviving steerage passengers were left out on deck, exposed to the elements. I wouldn't be surprised if most of them were ill now."

"Yes, that is disgraceful," Ruth said smoothly. "I can't even imagine." What she couldn't imagine was what had convinced Rose to put herself in that situation. Youthful foolishness and rebelliousness she understood, but Rose's choices were simply unfathomable. Not only had she run away with some vagabond, but she had done so during a _disaster_. She'd refused to accept safety when it was offered and gone straight into the heart of danger. It was a miracle she was still alive. Not only that, but she just happened to be on the next floor.

It sounded almost too good to be true. It was the sort of coincidence one read about but never actually experienced. Ruth had never believed in fate, but she was hard pressed to find another explanation for what was happening. Perhaps there was still a chance to salvage things after all. Cal couldn't possibly break off an engagement when his fiancee miraculously returned from the dead. What would people think?

"They're a lovely couple," Jane was saying. With a start, Ruth realized she'd been talking the whole time, unaware of her visitor's complete lack of attention. "He's so attentive to her," she went on. "It's obvious he loves her very much."

"Yes," Ruth said. It took all her strength to remain composed. "He certainly has strong feelings for her."

"Jack's mentioned they plan to travel out West when Rose is well enough. I'm hoping my husband knows someone who can set him up with a good job. I've asked him to inquire. A warm climate is exactly what she needs after an illness like this one."

So, he was planning to take her off to God only knew where. Ruth wasn't surprised. It was exactly the sort of thing that would appeal to an irresponsible, itinerant nobody who fancied himself an artist. Ruth held in a snort. An artist. As if they ever contributed anything useful to the world. How exactly did he think he could support a wife with a bunch of sketches? She doubted he had the wherewithal to even hold down a proper job. It was more likely that he painted himself as a sort of romantic wanderer to hide the fact that he was simply a failure.

…

Jack braced himself as he entered the dining room. Jane was already seated in her usual place. Amelia was in hers, and Oscar was taking his seat. Ruth occupied the chair that would've been Rose's. He felt a pang seeing her there. It should've been Rose sitting there, carefree and healthy, but instead her mother eyed him coldly. Jack ignored her and sat down.

"Stanley should be here any moment," Jane said. "I don't know what's keeping him."

"He said he was going to the park to draw," Amelia replied. "He probably lost track of time."

"That boy," Jane said with an indulgent smile. To Ruth she added, "He forgets everything when he's working on his art."

"I've heard that's a common problem," Ruth said. "Art is apparently rather consuming for the person creating it."

The door opened, and Stanley rushed in. "I'm sorry everyone," he said. "I was sketching, and I completely forgot how late it had gotten." He looked around the table. "Oh, I see we have a guest." He smiled. "I'd like to extend an extra apology to you, ma'am. It was very rude of me to keep you waiting."

"That's quite alright," Ruth said graciously.

"Mother was just telling her about your art," Amelia said.

Stanley's cheeks reddened. "No-one wants to hear about that. My drawings aren't very good."

"Nonsense!" Amelia exclaimed. "Your drawings are wonderful. You think so, don't you, Father?"

Oscar nodded. "I do indeed. Your brother shows great promise. He just needs to overcome his lack of confidence."

"See?" Amelia said. "And I'm sure Jack agrees as well." She looked at him expectantly. "What's your opinion?"

"I think Stanley's drawings are wonderful," Jack said. "He has a unique style. He could really be an artist if that's what he wants."

"See?" Amelia said again, smugly this time. "You don't have anything to be ashamed of."

"Yes, I see," Stanley said. His blush hadn't quite faded completely. "Thank you, dear sister."

Amelia smiled brightly. "Anytime."

"Well, now that we've settled that, let's start dinner, shall we?" Jane said.

…...

Jack barely tasted the roast chicken that was set before him. He chewed and swallowed, but it could've been anything, and he wouldn't have noticed. Once he spent a week living off stale bread and old potatoes. Those meals had been more satisfying than this one, and they'd gone down much easier as well. Of course, he hadn't been trying to eat them with Ruth watching his every move, which probably helped.

"Jack, would you mind taking a look at one of the drawings I did today?" Stanley asked. "I'd really like to get your opinion about it."

"I don't mind," Jack answered. "Can we do it sometime tomorrow? I need to get back upstairs to Rose after dinner." He felt a shift in Ruth's gaze as he spoke. What was she planning? It was crazy that she had somehow found her way there coincidently, but Jack had seen enough to know things happened that way sometimes. The problem was, now that she knew about them there was no chance she'd leave them in peace. His shoulders tightened. She wouldn't try to involve Cal, would she? He hoped everything that had happened during the sinking was enough to keep him away for good.

He'd locked their room behind him. As far as he knew there were only two keys. He had one, and the housekeeper had the other. Rose could get out if she needed to. She was asleep when he left, and he hoped she'd stay that way. The more rest she got, the sooner she'd be on her feet again, and the sooner they could get far away from any threats that might be coming their way.

Jack had felt a little silly locking the door. He knew it made him seem paranoid, and he'd questioned doing it at first. Nothing could happen with him just downstairs, right? There was no way she had enough time to set something up before dinner. No way she could've made a phone call and arranged for Cal or some goon who worked for him to sneak into the house and try to abduct Rose. Right? That was just crazy.

Then again, so was Cal having him arrested. Jack felt panic rise in his throat as he remembered being trapped in that room while the water rushed in. Despite his determination to remain hopeful, there had been a moment when he accepted no-one was coming to help, and he wasn't going to make it. He'd wondered if things would have been different if more people had known what was happening before the arrest. Would he still have been left handcuffed to a pipe? Or would he have been given a fighting chance?

Jack had to admit, there wasn't much reason to assume that. Not when so many of the Third Class passengers had still been trapped behind gates even as the lower decks flooded. Why should he have been any different?

No, he wouldn't be surprised by anything Cal did, but he still wasn't convinced there was an imminent threat, locked door or not.

"Have you ever made money by drawing?" Stanley asked. "I know art isn't exactly a career one pursues, at least not if stability is a priority, although there are some jobs which do involve art, but to be honest, none of those interest me."

"You can always study on the side," Jane suggested. "There's no reason why you can't have a solid career and be an artist."

"Your mother's right," Oscar said. "There will be plenty of time for both. I'm sure even if Jack has made some money from his drawings, it was never enough to fully support him."

"Well, no, not really." Jack said. "But for a-" He stopped, suddenly realizing he was about to tell his real life story rather than the one he'd used as a cover. "I wasn't encouraged to see it as a potential career," he said. "I was told it was only a hobby, and that I needed to think about more practical things." He seemed to look off into the distance as he spoke. "I couldn't stop drawing, though. It's like I was born to do it. I wouldn't know how to live without it. I'd find a way, if I had to, but I can't imagine ever giving it up unless I was forced. But to answer your question, no, it's never supported me. That doesn't mean it never will, though." He shrugged. "Who knows what might happen tomorrow?" He saw Ruth's pursed lips out of the corner of his eye.

"That's a good point," Amelia said. "If recent events have shown us anything it's that we never know what's going to happen."

"Indeed we don't," Ruth said tightly. She dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. "I apologize. That night is still painful to think about."

"I can't even imagine what it must have been like," Amelia said sympathetically.

"Perhaps we should change the subject," Jane suggested. "I'm sure neither Jack nor Mrs. Dewitt-Bukator would appreciate discussing the tragedy."

"I'm sorry," Amelia said. "I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

"It's quite alright," Ruth replied. "I understand." She dabbed her eyes again. "My experience wasn't nearly as harrowing as it could have been. I was fortunate enough to find a place in a lifeboat before things truly began to fall apart. However, though I was spared from the worst of it, I saw everything."

"It must have taken a great deal of nerve to remain calm," Oscar said. "Even from a distance, such an experience isn't easily endured."

"No, it isn't," Ruth agreed. She trained her gaze on Jack. "Especially when you know your only child is still onboard."

"That's horrible," Amelia said. "What happened? Wasn't there enough room in the boat?"

"There was plenty of room. She simply refused to come into the boat," Ruth said. "Her fiance had given her a necklace a few days earlier, and she got it in her head that she had to go back for it. She refused to listen to reason, hysterical from everything going on no doubt. He tried to stop her, but she ran into the crowd. That was the last I saw of her."

"She could still be found," Stanley said. "I read in the paper this morning that survivors are still being reunited with their families. Some were too ill or injured to give their names when the _Carpathia_ reached New York. Maybe she was among them."

"I want to believe she's alive somewhere, but it gets harder with each passing day," Ruth said. "She was the only family I had left. My husband passed away two years ago. My own mother died when I was a child, and my father succumbed to a fever a few years later. My husband had very few living relatives," she went on. "And even fewer that he was close with. My daughter was everything to me."

Jack saw a spark of anger flash in her eyes. It was gone in a blink. "Losing your family is terrible," he said, his tone even but sincere. "No-one should have to go through that."

"No." A slight edge came into Ruth's voice. "They shouldn't. It would be even worse if someone could help but simply refused to."

"You don't think someone knows where she is but isn't letting her come home, do you?" Stanley said. "Who would do such a thing?"

"You'd be surprised at the vile things that happen to young girls these days," Oscar said. "It's getting so it isn't even safe for them to go out in groups."

Jane shook her head. "That's horrifying."

"Maybe she's waiting for the right time," Jack said. "Maybe, wherever she is, she's alright, but she isn't ready to tell you yet. The sinking must've been even harder on her."

"That's one possibility," Amelia said. "Though I'm not sure how likely it is."

"Only a pernicious influence could keep her from coming home," Ruth said decisively.

…..

Jack breathed a sigh of relief when he finally left the dining room. Dinner hadn't lasted any longer than usual, but it felt like it went on for hours. His neck and shoulders ached. More than anything, he wanted to lie in a hot bath and then fall asleep with Rose tucked in his arms.

He decided to go up the backstairs so he'd avoid seeing anyone else. Just as he reached them, he heard Ruth's icy whisper. "You didn't believe you'd actually get away with it, did you?"

Jack set his jaw. He turned, his hand still on the banister. "I haven't done anything that needs getting away with," he said calmly.

"You know exactly what you've done. I could have you arrested for it tonight."

He watched her for a moment. "Would you really do that to Rose?"

"Getting her away from _you_ is the best thing I can do for her," she spat. "She's had nothing but trouble since she met you. Everything was fine until you came along and filled her head with lies and vulgar ideas."

Jack chuckled softly. "You think everything was fine? You think she was happy? You didn't pay attention to her at all, did you? As long as she was marrying him, nothing else mattered. So what if she was miserable? You'd be getting all that money."

"We needed that money. Rose needed that money," Ruth replied. "She has nothing, or hasn't she told you that? I'm sorry if you thought you'd be worming your way into a wealthy family, but that's not going to happen."

"I never thought that. I don't want anyone else's money. I just want Rose to be happy."

"People like you always talk about happiness like it isn't a fleeting emotion," Ruth said, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "How long do you think she'll be happy living in filth and poverty? How long do you think your good looks will be enough to make her forget everything she gave up?"

"Rose is free to do anything she wants. I'd never try to stop her if she wanted to leave." He turned and started up the stairs. "If she means anything to you, don't hurt her. If she wants to go back, she will."

AN: Thanks for reading! Updates will continue to be posted. Stay safe everyone!


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